The Broken Manor

There was once—

a manor,

By the old Sharma's farm.

Grandeur—

permeated into every brick,

Large halls—

a courtyard— 

Rooms—

filled to the brim with odd trinkets.

But now—

Its pillars—

Once proud—

Buckle under its weight—

Its rooms—

Once full of life—of joy—

Now stare emptily back,

With cracks along their walls—

The same ones that housed—

Once upon a time—

Paintings of future artists—

Trees and fruitful days.

The stairs are missing pieces now—

The handrail has been removed—

The furniture—

Previously littered with toys and newspapers—

Lies strewn across the halls.

Crossing the broken gate—

I enter—

Spending some time—

In my cold home—

I couldn't help but notice—

I was all alone.