My House Poem by Faruk Buzhala
My House
My house is a hundred years old
The wounds of time appear on the walls
Even though I have tried to repair you.
You are as beautiful as a monument of the past,
I have lived and grown inside of you.
My hundred - year old house -
When it rains, why do you cry?
The roof and ceiling leak
And I …
Run with a bowl in my hands
To catch the tears.
Friday, October 8, 2021
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4/24/2024 2:45:46 AM # 1.0.0.1119
