Weavers of life..

Weavers of My life.

Thanks to who all wove good relations

O” Father you are a skilled weaver,

 O” mother you are a skilled weaver,

They made the fabrics of love in my beautiful world

 Groomed in the hand looms.

Where they picked up us as thin threads

Even in lot of effort knit with love and care

Adore designs of the costumes at home.

Dressed up in that warmth bliss

Feeling of thumping heart in their affectionate pat

Ha ha... laughs and able to fly as a bird,

 through different lane  and levels in the life.

With suits of different styles

On the way I saw colorful flowers and tree

“Dye makers” the siblings who ground petals 

With fragrance they splashed chromatic spring to me.

Now got twill weaves in rainbow,

Start off charming friendships,

that  brings tremendous joy in the heart

Ha ha they are laughing with me   

I got the legacy of a golden yellow yarn of love,  

by that yarn, made I a knot with a new heart,

and entwined my heart .

She added more colors while darning more,

in her costumes thus stitched gaudy butterflies

That started to sway with my names in her hands

Woo! Embroidery works so close to my heart.

Ha ha the butterflies smiling with me

 Yesteryears went on the looms of life very fast.

 I was spell bound to colored costumes

But I felt solitude, my body swathe in a white fur a lot.

Whir sound in the bones I can’t weave

Needles and the yarn slips from the hand,

prickling to my skin due to the blinking eyes.

Unable to find the true weavers and old costumes of love.

Well made things are nowhere to be seen nowadays,

I felt sheer artificiality in the costumes

O” the body lost the novelty...

That’s why I trivialized sufferings of mine

Without any costumes, I am bare in the soil…

That’s the final destiny of lifecycle.