Favourite Weaves Poem by Anjali Shah

Those were one noticeable days among other
When wrapped boxes
Hid in them, the presents of new attires.

In excitement, we unboxed them
Crossing legs, we posed.
Their smell, their feel, their look,
Their everything burnt in us, sparks of glamour.

We wore them again and again
Till our heads didn't have over the brim compliments.
And then they got dirty, torn, washed and Strings weakened
Lost their charm and our interest.

We again now wait for new ones to arrive.
But still there are those-
Dirty and washed, faded in colours;
Torn and again stitched.

Still we let them hug us through our good night's sleep
Trapped in them, our the beautiful memories of yesterdays;
And they'll be our favourite weaves, for always.