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So, this is what it feels like
-melancholy.
Like an old, empty house
sitting atop a hill
on a hot summer day.
Inside, it is dead, silent, still.
Like a fever, the heat permeates the walls,
the film covered windows
the narrow stairwell-
meant for the unseen,
like sadness
hiding under smiles.
*
Melancholy, like an old, empty house
where the sun emanates a jaundiced glow
and the dust and ghosts
and memories
sit at the table awaiting tea
to be poured into cups
stained with past regrets.
*
But the time to drink is over
and the thirst that remains
is eternal.
