This Place

This is where I used to sit
Behind this broken window
Of the old hostel
Facing the tall Ezhilampala...

This is from where, one day,
I'd  opened my chat box
To see your first message.
I'd smiled unknowingly then and there.

This is from where I'd watched
A squirrel mourning
Over the corpse of its mate.

This is where I'd come as a refugee
To elude from haunting thoughts
Of the nights with a stranger.

This is from where I'd seen
Green paths turning to muddy
Then into tarry
Over a single night.

This is  where I'd smiled and wept
Over your childish fights.

Now I wrap this place,
Its four walls,
Dampness and scent
In a mere photograph
To present you, if one day
We meet in a dream.

* Ezhilampala= Indian devil tree