In solitude
I reminisce
of love that once was mine to kiss
but now
my heart is but amiss
as I mourn the love
I dearly miss.

Without a single word,
They tell their stories—
Years spent apart,
Yet yearning to meet.

Fingers trace memories,
Whispers of time gone by,
Silent but profound,
In their gentle touch, they sigh.

They speak of love and loss,
Of moments slipped through sand,
A timeless conversation,
In the language of hands.

Life is a tightly woven tale,
A grim beginning, a joyful trail.
Who can say if smiles at dawn,
Won't fade to tears when day is gone?

Write your story with a humble pen,
Let kindness guide where it may wend.
Leave behind the weight of shame,
And walk through life, free of blame.

Stitch by stitch,
fingers move like ghosts in dim-lit rooms,
eyes strained, backs bent,
breath laced with dust and silence.

A label whispers luxury,
a name stitched in gold,
but behind the seams,
a child traces hunger with trembling hands.

The clock does not sleep,
nor do the hands that sew,
woven into fabric priced in dollars,
while wages shrink to cents.

Promises drape the storefronts,
Ethical. Sustainable. Fair.
But behind factory doors,
needles pierce more than cloth.

Somewhere, a thread unravels,
and a name is lost in the weave,
a worker, a mother, a child.
Their voices fade,
but the machines never stop.

She loves to play with colors,
and her favorite is blue.
She loves her blue jeans,
a gift from her mother.

Her mother works
in a garment factory,
where women are paid
less than men.

She dreams of a world
where colors don’t fade with injustice.

I saw her in the bazaar
after so many days.
As always, her face was layered
with makeup—
not to beautify,
but to mask the bruises.
Time had worn her down,
yet she stood tall,
a quiet victory in her eyes.
She had finally severed the knot
of an abusive past,
and for the first time,
she looked free.

We should save our land
We should save mother nature
We must save it today
Else, it will be past the point of no return.

We have to tell our children
Who are our future.

Global warming is crushing the earth
Rising temperature can slaughter the plants and animals.

To control the temperature of the earth
We have to teach our children
Don't use plastic bags.

Plastic bags are really handy
But they are polluting our environment.