An empty room, so cold and bare,
No signs of life, no soul to share.
A lonely chair sits in the space,
A silent witness to its grace.
The walls are blank, devoid of art,
No love or laughter to impart.
The floorboards creak with every step,
As if the room itself has wept.
The window pane reflects the moon,
A solemn sight, a mournful tune.
This empty room, a vacant tomb,
A place where hope and joy consume.
© VishalDutia
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