I do not understand why,
That rusty, old trunk looks inviting;
That home of sacred memories.
Perhaps, because although material,
Its spirit boasts of secrets alive.

I do not understand why,
Stirs me inside that desert storm;
Omen of destructive beginning.
Perhaps, because its force over the dunes,
Wipes those anonymous juvenile trails on sand.

I do not understand why,
The rainy nights lull me to deep slumber;
Tempting silence disturbed by the descant of sweet raindrops.
Perhaps, because the drops though small,
Settle the inscrutable qualms.

I do not understand why,
Autumn twilights and with me smear into old vistas;
Biting winds defeating the hearty warmness.
Perhaps, because they are awaited prophets of memories,
Diverting me from the road to oblivion.

I do not understand why,
On my mind escape from this crowd;
Distorted silhouttes all I see.
Perhaps, because I shall then again transcend to the jamboree of my musings,
Whose immaculate congeniality, forever beautiful.

Aasifa Sheikh

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/musings-12/