The Festive

The window lanes are ready,

They smell fresh, paint, aerosol and other chemicals,

Its festive, happiness all around

But a sheer maintenance period inside

Silent and petrified, terrified often

What I don’t try to understand is how other ones understand me

I remember colorful smell of festive

Auras and beautiful smiles,

A feeling of everything being all right.


Certain things that sorts out automatically

With just a piece of sweet

Lights and crackers, so much noise

And suddenly silence

Next day is the day we try to cope up with

And wait for another festive.


2 thoughts on “The Festive

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