A Grand Mansion
Before me a grand mansion, once carefully looked after,
Always somebody at the gate as a porter.
Long gone the owner, now a vacant place,
Colour of the walls peeling off, losing grace.
Flower bed dying, without a gardener,
Trees overgrown, heaps of leaves in every corner.
Rusting windows, stained joints of the doors,
Uncleaned, dusty carpets on the floors.
Changing the image of the Old Grandier,
All that magnificent splendour.
Some portraits adorn the hall,
Hanging upside down on the wall.
Furniture's in disarray, with dust,
Grimy ornaments, the rest is rust!
A lively house once, now a place for a ghost,
Nobody is waiting for the welcome from the host.
But those days visitors stepped in with great respect,
To win the approval of the powerful man, they expect.
It gives a good lesson to the observer,
How this temporary life goes on forever.
|
| GUEST BOOK |
hawa abdulla Writes:  |
| wow !! very beautiful poem.. well done |
| Read More |
|
