The house.
They screeched They scratched At the windows, closed, At the curtains, well juxtaposed. The dim light that seeped, The light music that bled They clawed,and mauled and snapped At that, which they had not had. Turned and twisted Their necks and heads, and minds. Desire and envy were never in short supply In the green monochrome of their tinted eyes. Every lithe tread was a threat. Every word whispered a writing on the wall. They eyed the house, every look a stone What holds up the structure? Does anyone know? They waited for the rains. They begged and begged for slaughterous storms. They prayed hard for hard hail. But to no visible avail. In the cold winters, the house glowed with warmth. Summers seemed brighter in its proximity. In the rains, it smelled like wet earth. Oh, what has given to this magnanimity birth? At the slightest tremor, they ran, Galloped, to watch the carnage; But its unassailability brought to...