Poetry world

At times when I stay alone in the home, it feels as if it is breathing, quite slowly.

Sometimes it breaths heavily and seems as it is tired or grown old.

But it always breaths, all the time, without any pause.

Swaying curtains makes it even more alive. Sometimes they feel as someone is furtively keeping an eye on me.

And if they stop swaying, a small blow of wind is adequate to bring them