She laid the table with chopped carrots and cucumber,
Simple colors of life arranged in quiet order.
No grand feast, no shining silver to show,
Just the honest taste of a day moving slow.
In each cut piece, a story of care unfolds,
Of patient hands and a heart that holds.
The kitchen breathes with a gentle light,
Where ordinary things feel soft and right.
And in that stillness, something pure remains—
A peace that quietly feeds the soul’s refrains.
By : Mayanglambam Meerina Leimarenbi
No comments:
Post a Comment