people should be differentiated through thoughts because thats were the real game happens upper class and lower class is just a spectram created by mankind itself. every human belong to mother earth just like every other being.
I'm a disguised lover, A sandwich infused in cold beverage, I was born when monsoon ceased the August rain and September wore a hodge-podge of maple leaves and some braided red pink camellia.
~ Stained museum is the synonym of Autumn ~
The Nightingale welcomed my arrival, I flipped a page and painted golden yellow timber towns, the whimsical moves of oaks and pines touched grandpa's heart, writers shed sonnets and the passer-by chewed cidery scent and brewed a bottle of red wine.
• In the hustle and bustle, the kids compose their existence with the floral crowns.
In the September evening, I encountered the gentle brisk air slightly wiping away the dusty lanes, the rooftops and the mud folding edges of the alabaster walls. I remember the musical notes of yellow warblers that carried my opalescent wings to the October nights when lovers drank the soup broth of promises resting on each other's shoulders.
• I breathe when honeysuckle lovers meet, I breathe a little more.
Leaves began to fall, I gulped a quarter of courage and stitched tangerine epigraph on the vintage streets when parched foothills were covered in mist; I sowed a vermilion sunset, reaped some evergreen ghazals I swallowed silhouettes of October late and crooned a septolet of windfall.
• The sparks of campfire melts the winter snow.
I served nostalgia and draped my fragile skin in pomegranate's veil I breathed November like a sojourner, passed December like a short-lived cherry blossom erasing tassels of turmoil; I inhaled the mellow moon to welcome Nabanna, baked pots of rice cakes and sweets, healed ulcers of claustrophobic footprints.
• Winter knocked at my doorsteps, And I lay resting in my graveyard with a memoir of epitaph and some white jasmines.
// I hope to meet you again in my next birth //
~ Oh human, I want to stick to your soul, I want to stick to eternity ~
Nabanna - A Bengali harvest celebration usually celebrated in the late autumn with food, dance and music in Bangladesh & in the Indian states of West Bengal, Tripura and Assam. It is a festival of food; many local preparations of Bengali cuisine like pithe are cooked.