The palaces lie shattered,
torn in memory and fame.
Power, glory all that mattered,
hidden in cries despair and shame.
The guards would stand all along,
heat, rain, hunger or even cold.
Night and day watching the furlong,
like a statue, brave and bold.
The women in their core chambers,
had to make a world of their own.
Glowing in the light of the embers,
were their desire, love they have known.
In whispers, murmurs, moans and sobs,
they lived till eternal darkness bind.
While the glorious kings did rob,
unborn thoughts that lived in their mind.
Prasenjit©1997-2017
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