Ferns on the broken wall
There stood a wall of old red bricks,
sculpted as a fence that now lays in its ruins,
around a beautiful paradise called home,
where life once ticked like a metronome.
While memories leaned on it for many ages,
time stood still on it gazing muses,
celebration planted next to it always bore fruit,
flowers sprouted on it grew relations cute,
sun, rain and wind tried their might,
moon, stars, and streetlight lit it in the night,
birds of every season sang on it for all,
while tiny snails crawled on this damp wall.
And as life, spent growing days into years,
all promises and expectation slowly veers,
and dreamers leave for another abode,
while emptiness creeps in down the road,
knocking over the wall of old red bricks,
and covering it with ferns to hide all ruins.