The minimalism is curating less,
we live a cardboard life.All but the individual drinks the shots,
of fame, attention and perfect likes!
They bought us something progressive,
handed us with the best needs met.
But sailing with them again,
not a choice but a mandatory.
She expected few moments each day,
ok, a call per day?
No, the lines went busy,
somedays are tough,
yet, life is tougher.
Does it give you a chance back?
The touch just dissolves in,
only brings memoirs and memories folded.
Asked for some sort of staying back,
come on you will be ok!
I have my job to look at.
But the doors were always open back then,
"You made me impatient or my meals",
little did she ever mind.
That was not the course to raise the little,
but the older forgot the budding sprouts,
only reap and blow out.
They don't see the roots dying in next,
the blood is shrunken and dried now,
in Twings, creepers and leaves.
Remains intact is the emotion to see once more,
to meet a second plea,
to say good and bad this time.
Phases glide on with no corner,
the river just flows until barged in,
the bridge here is broken and the fluid is free,
they will not hold back,
it will not be an offence,
kindness and affection still meet you,
they still will bless you!
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