#WritcoPoemPrompt121

In the good old backyard
Of mine in the village.
Nothing is in order.

Things lying around,
In their own emptiness,
Try to ooze life somehow.

The swish of wind,
Clips on the cloth line dangle.
To which the yellow
Marigolds rhyme in sync.

Crows caw from the
Eucalyptus.
Torn saree stuck in
The fence flutter and
The the periwinkles
Dance in style.

A broken chair and
Handicapped cot observe...