The sign is posted on the porch I've walked many times this way before through seasons warm and cold but no one appears at the door. An abandoned house that says Welcome must have been somebody's abode— leaves me guessing who might have lived in a happy home in this town where few might wander unless they've lost their way, no highways feed into these streets, just old Chevy trucks parked by stacks of hay. A wind chime blows with wind's moody strokes each time I stroll by, but the windows seem so tightly sealed, no visitors knock to say hi. It must have been a place of joy for some kind-hearted folks who lived and left the signpost still hanging on the porch.
© Neetu Malik
Some of Neetu’s Books
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I am but dust
a grain of sand
blowing whichever way
the wind blows
in the universe -
You were the guest at my table picking on the corners of the table cloth, fingers nervously folding and unfolding mutilated pride.
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Neetu Malik’s poetry is an expression of life’s rhythms and the beat of the human spirit. She draws upon diverse multicultural experiences and observations across three continents in which she has lived.
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I tread softly in your world mindful of my footsteps
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Neetu Malik’s poetry is an expression of life’s rhythms and the beat of the human spirit. She draws upon diverse multicultural experiences and observations across three continents in which she has lived.
Featured Books
THE DARK BEFORE DAWN
High in the Santa Monica Mountains near Los Angeles, grisly murders are taking place.
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PIVOT
Three friends, each survivors of a brutal childhood, grew up together in foster care. Now as women, they’re fighting for their lives again.
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To save millions of lives, she may have to sacrifice the ones she loves…
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