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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