Engrave Wings

আষাঢ়।

The tea grows cold in the evening shade,
A quiet space where the light must fade.
The book stays open, the pages still,
As shadows stretch across the sill.
I trace the rim of a single glass,
And watch the slow, heavy minutes pass.
An empty spot on the woven thread,
Where words you spoke should now be said.
It is not a storm, this quiet ache,
But a gentle bend that will not break.
A world complete, yet utterly bare,
Beautiful, still—but you are not there.

অফ ওয়াইট জামদানি।

Saree- #খানলেডিসফ্যাশনএন্ডফেব্রিক্স