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Dec 2020
Solemn abode of history unknown,
an abandoned house stands on its own,
with wearied walls and swinging shutters,
with dusty window panes and bended gutters.
It was a place of joy and now its in disaster,
with time hammering harder and faster.
No hope resides there,
only despair everlasting.
The spirit left it long ago,
leaving void and the shadows of its masters,
with old laughters still echoing the rooms,
celebrating hollowness they cant voice,
though their stories are vibrant as the colors of past days.
A sudden look will immerse its caster, in mysterious strands of memories,
pleading and asking.
Were the bygone days an illusion or reality?
Farook Suyarov
Written by
Farook Suyarov  27/M/Fergana
(27/M/Fergana)   
94
 
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