The grass was a light summer-green,
and the front gate was open,
white picket fence, shrubbery,
a swing, and a tall stout tree.
The open door waited for him each day.
He’d return home, promptly place his coat on the sofa,
yes, sofa;
and walk through the house to the backyard
to play with the rabbits.
On days when I was lucky, I’d be planted with a wet kiss.
On others, just the coat on the sofa…
and my time divided with the rabbits.
The front door always remained open,
I never once shut it.
And that is why, I didn’t realize the moment he left.
The door is now shut, the rabbits are there no more.
and the sofa devoid of the coat;
I tucked it away in the cupboard.
Just yesterday I realized
the backdoor has been open all throughout too…

– Sameen

P.S: Experiment.

10 thoughts on “Backdoors

      1. Yea…you’re letting go of the need for form and letting fragments instead of continuity to take force. Its a good start and i like it…think of it like writing an abstract music video in words…no linear story but a sense of cohesion and realization…keep at it…i like 🙂


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