I see it often ,a sad template ,outside a deserted vacant house,
whining in the solace,murmuring the never ending grouse.
The lifeless dried wooden cast, cracks down to story of an age,
and the dirty moss-struck marble,faces off, to hide the heritage.
The cobwebs roll over to veil the dark secrets,
and the weeds circumvene to strike off the alphabets.
So,there must be a glorious time,when it must be shining in the rhyme,
and there must have been zillions trespassing glances,
yelling out and faking romances!
And I see it often,hanging patiently out there.
peeping deliberately to be lively alive,
to be read over again and to revive.
That sad template ,though ,still gives a name to that lonesome ground,
it still has a purpose to live for,
still has a reason to keep it bound.
And this template that's cemented there,
however hardships it's exposed to,
a single stop-over and a gentle rub-off,
would make it shine yet again..
