The Punctuality.

Where the origins of life
Where the end of life
The last rites done in haste
The mustard seeds spread in yard
They supposed to become new seedlings
A meaningful imagination of old ones
The tears were in the eyes of beloved
There a laughing sound heard somewhere
Birth and death is my own decision
The mustard seeds resembles the happening
Why you are parting sad moment
The day is reckoned in such punctual ways.

by Gangadharan nair Pulingat..

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Comments (1)

The age old customs and rites somewhere.