Shadows appear
suddenly
in doorways, along walls
Corridors
are limned
in uncertain edges
Shoulders hunch
defensively,
against other falls.
What has come to be.
Colours melt
and fade away
An ancient artist's palette,
Tears would only
further blur
And ghosts may suddenly
appear.
A haunting life,
half dim, half light
of some blues
and mostly green.
What has come to me.
- Shaista