𝟏𝟓. 𝐖𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐬 𝐚 𝐝𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐫𝐭
───── ❝ Weaving is a dying art ❞ ─────
The sunrise, my eyes.
Those powerful rays, your eyes.
And this is how I made my day.
The moonlit sky, my eyes.
Those strings of stars, your eyes.
And this is how I made my night.
The dark clouds, my eyes.
That one silver lining, your eyes.
And this is how I call the rain.
The white snow, my eyes.
Those beautiful snowflakes, your eyes.
And this is how I call the fall.
It's you who puts the pieces back.
It's you who completes the picture.
It's you who completes me.
And this is how
I weaved a 'us'.
- নী
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