Words of Thought

Year comes and goes,
We stand with them, 
In the thick and thin,
Life's malady plays the tune, 
We dance with this tune, 
In mirth and sorrow, 
For that is the life, 
We get with every coming morrow.

School Break

The bell rang,
Children ran out of their classes,
Laughing and giggling,
Their small tiffin boxes in their tiny hands.

Amid all the shouts and laughs,
The tiffin boxes opened,
And food from different homes, 
Come out in the open.

Mothers love was packed in the small boxes, 
Filled with taste and smell,
The children ate and shared,
With loved spilled all over.

© gouriguha 2019