The Museum Visit

By Avani Tiwari

The museum smelled of dust and time,

Well for my brother, our thoughts didn't rhyme.

I traced the cracks on pots, and peeling paint,

While he traced that fondness of mine.

I wandered through the stories and flashbacks,

Of how they, 'the gone ones' would've chimed,

But history doesn't ring a bell for people like him,

For him the past was just a canvas,

and me a centerpiece, who he wished won't bend her spine.

He saw me through a lens bizzare,

Capturing art, just not like me,

As he quotes a bore "hazard",

But for that moment, we both stood still,

Him behind the window sill,

And me busy with the escape drill,

An alien and monkey, since childhood,

Together was a will,

And here we are today,

Still his words were...

Let's leave now, don't be a buzz kill.

By Avani Tiwari