"Have you ever noticed what sad faces put on your grandparents when holiday is over and you have to go home? I did! The following peom describes those moments."



A wooden bench,now polished by the time-
The silent witness to what they had endured,
With crying eyes they look up to the sky
And drench the pain that couldn’t be ignored.

Around their house, the silence dug its burrow,
Where once was laughter and shouts up in the air
Now it’s just lying the shadow of tomorrow,
For which somehow, they just no longer care.

No sign or news about the ones they care,
Nobody coming to show at least a grin…
Just the old, wooden gate whose crying seems to bear
The overwhelming sorrow now soothed by the wind.

With worn-out smiles and wrinkled by their age,
They always pray facing the eastern wall,
May someone come to this forsaken cage,
May someone listen to their forgotten call.

But no one comes, and silence spreads the rumour,
Inside this house there are too many chairs,
Too many beds, too many cups and spoons…
To their disuse only the time’s aware.

Their little table will never know the crowd,
That long ago it almost broke its legs,
Their empty eyes will never shine so proud
Like they did once-now happiness they beg.

All dressed in rags, still waiting in the doorway,
They search the road for a distinctive face
Just to see strangers who God knows why they stray
Into this old and time forsaken place.