“The Sorcerer Next Door”

A white flat building,
In a site, surrounded by slums,
Where cats were in a greater whole number,
Than the paying inhabitants.
I remember the one with a black spot on the left ear,
It strolled in and out
More freely than most of the stayers.
The nymphomaniac owner
Of the unyoung and run-down white edifice,
Would walk in every flat for receiving dues.
A three storeyed structure it was, that had two flats on each base,
A flat big enough to accommodate two skinny persons
With their bedding, some furniture, and a metal trunk which is supposedly opened at every eyeing of the Halley’s Comet.
I remember being poor,
And residing at the second floor with my mum.
Next door, stayed a ruffian with his sight impaired daughter, with a dark complexion,
And a very keen sense of hearing.
Oh, she was the Pied Piper of our apartment building who could entrance the purrs and mute them and could very beautifully and effortlessly,
Make nothingness prevalent in the atmosphere.
She was in her late teens and could amaze everyone.
I think she aced the art of magic,
And sorcery.
I was a kid then, but I had developed some sort of affection for that lady,
Which didn’t let me concentrate,
And I always visited her house when the ruffian was out.
I was somewhat attracted to her and her dwelling.
Wonder, how a person with an imparity, a shade of brown and a love for cats, could so easily bewitch people under the spell of magic.
Magic? Well, I ain’t sure. But she was enigmatic and as obscure as déjà vu.
Beautiful she was, in her imparity and the dark skin tone.
And I could never unravel the location of the “Sorcerer’s Stone” in her “Chamber Of Secrets”.

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