Of all the rooms in your parents’ house,
there is now one which
you’ll never enter again,
nor see within those
mementoes that once
signified your childhood;
There are now some days hidden from you,
that can no longer be retrieved
by searching for them in your diary;
And in the early hours of morning,
the words to a melody
that haunts your thoughts,
are now lost beyond recall
forever.
A subdued tone and a fine control over the verse uncovers a lovely poem about loss.
A fine write, Sir, a composition which can move the emotions of its readers