A Room

There is nothing      
 in that room        
        
Few good books          
And some cigarette butts in the Ashtray        
         
No slogans dirtying the walls        
Nor nails crucifying portraits  
         
Not even a closet        
Just a dry mud pot in the corner        
         
***        
Some one     
lived in there before    
         
But no memories lingering
there anymore
 
***        
Yes its an empty room     
yet when I look at it          
 I feel inexplicable grief