It’s a hard stare at the wooden door
With a quizzical face waiting for it to open
Till that time, prowling around the patio
As if figured out an ogre of the woods
Still living in the spirit of forest attire
Scrutinizing the home with sleazy eyes
Chewing on the images of delusions
That door wouldn’t open for them
Someone may be contemplating deep
Busy with charming thoughts of world
Silence seems awkward from outside
Never seen a house so quiet and pleasant?
Stealthy walks torture the green pastures
Patio left with mud stains all across
~Amitav
Amitav Chowdhury 