I love that word, tradition.
A bit archaic yet it settles
in the lower pocket of beliefs,
I've seen it escaping from
hourglass almost everyday,
but now it seems to fade
away like clouds after raining.

When the skies were bluer
we stitched confetti's on
empty walls and greetings
on the tip of our tongues,
we filled hungry stomachs
with spices and herbs like
rifles stuffed with guncottons.

When I saw time being naked,
the last time, it was Diwali
where dull hearts and pale skin
bloomed into scarlet and beige
shades, hope was a little brighter
while sorrows a little fainter, and
humanity screamed as a loudest
forever.

I love that word, tradition.
Which bring our hearts closer
like orchids, roses and lilies in
same fence,
but we are drifting apart in this
pandemic, till what remains is
our own selves.
~Purva

#traditions #lovewordc

@writersnetwork thank you so much ❤️
@miraquill thank you so much for the feature ❤️