The invitations may not have been written in the language of the heart
Only your name spelt in cursive, and a paper crafted by the laboured effort
The scripted lines embellished with magnificent language to swoon over
When held in the hand and rolled slowly, they evoke a sense of illusion
Of being spoken about you from a distance about a blurry reflection
Embossed letters accentuate the refined way to lead you through this
Truthful language lost in the art of profligacy- an insincere eulogy
An invitation rolled out in such fashion loses its brilliance in no time
~Amitav
Indeed.
insincere eulogy…Loved this.
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Thank you, Bojana.
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