The day is chilled with the icy touch,

 Of the corpse of human voice,

And suffocates under the loud,

Tremors of the old refrigerator,

The gushing sound of water,

From the hoary washing machine,

And the ticking of the ancient clock,

Slicing away time bit by bit. 

The house elongated ahead to the deserted lawn,

 At the night’s descent with heavy footfalls,

The bed broadened to enthrone emptiness,

And the emaciated floor embraces the carcass,

Of love lost in infinity’s expanse.

……………Dr. Fathema Begum