Old House Poem by Naveed Khalid

Nothing remains of what in mind's eye
through sickness of desire,
has long abandoned for sake of poetry,
his untaught feeling to account for love:
Father! that to this end brings forth
our woe-begott'n dream,
oft beguil'd by looks in the empty mirror,
turned his face upon the world, not yet in sight;
nor I e'er seek to write in thin air
of shadowy vision at his feet, children follow;
but he sits still unmoved, watching them from afar,
night and day, day and night,
unattend'd by waking hour,
his presence alone makes me think
I, too, am relic of a living dead
around this house of mortal clay.

(C) Naveed Khalid

Copy Rights (C) 2013.
All Rights Reserved.

*Republished
Date Created: Tuesday, August 06,2013 4: 16: 15 PM