Subho Naboborsho

Across the horizon,
the white conch shell,
Ushers a new dawn,
with brushes of scarlet ray;
The pregnant year gives birth,
The joy a mother picks up
In the morning yawn of her sleeping child;
A scarlet cascade bears the jasmine,
Tucked in those long black curls,
The wind brings news of one more year,
Painting dreams on faded walls.

Plates of sweets form the lights,
A happy smile boils in the gas oven,
An old lady smells the pops,
Luchi flowers in the pan.
The juice sinks in the earthen pot,
The old man counts his coin;
Songs release the enamored voice,
And living beings dance in glee,
The trees sway in their utmost green,
The water basks in the spree.
Boishakh comes with her cornucopia,
Of the emotions written in prosperity’s scroll,
A new day, a new year, greetings I write for you all.

 

#Day 15  #Poem 15

 

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