It was as
if a ladder ( after
Guardian)
My memory
recoils the bamboo made
Solid structure
of ladder much sought after
Used often
in ancestral house of cleaning
And painting in great vigor.
Each rung
had its shine and bend,
Tilted and
slant often putting climber
In fear
and dilemma, still ascension
was thrill and challenge and pride.
Kept in
corner, each rung started
falling,
only empty space,
as if one
third of your life span
falling,
your being slowly vanishing
in air, a
dismay disturbing you .
A demolition
strikes and debris
Piles along
dust and demure,
Amidst scented
flowers nod,
Ladder laughing
at its own self
Amidst rungs
going and gone.
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