To Be a Palace

This house carries skies of life,
A pleasant country where it grows
Into a mansion, and then palace
So rich and glorious.

At frequent intervals the growth
Has a spurt, a spurt of energy;
Walking in and rising over
An inhabitant is a combatant.

The somewhat cold gleam
Entered the sticks and stones
Of the walls of the house,
It shivered for all time.

poem by Naveed Akram
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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