Interim by Anita Joy Balraj

It's an old house, forgotten, deep in the woods
Quiet and eeire, it's best left alone
It's dark, it's depressing, it reeks of death at dawn
But when night strikes, it's different; it's filled with joy and laughter
The ladies pretend to drink tea
In pretty blue cups and beautiful dresses
They talk about old times, jewelry and boys
They giggle, and they comb each others' tresses
The men are different; they don't talk too much
They repeat their hunting stories and all their drudge
The children now, they like to explore the woods
They never understand why they are not allowed to go to school.
In the phase between being alive and passing on, people await
Just like the living, they don't see the future or their fate
Life is so delicate, so easily lost
All that is left are memories when it's time for the soul to pass.

Anita Joy Balraj is a business analyst by profession and a poet by choice. She started writing when she was six, and has no plans to stop. Anita cherishes the joy and excitement she feels every time she writes a poem.