On Sale

Whether new or old.

Once it is sold.

It will be clipped on to the rope to fight with the wind.

Washed out to be accepted once again with creases manifold.

The fragrance will be retained in every fold.

From the day it was worn till it sleeps in the cold.

The story will be lost somewhere in the back of the shelf.

Forgotten in the dust before it was told.

It will be time to stop the feet.

Through the shopping street.

As on the day after tomorrow at the time of the stroll.

To be taken home as the reason of the smile with which we would sleep.

Whether new or old.

Once it is sold.

It will be clipped on to the rope to fight with the wind.

Washed out to be accepted once again with creases manifold.

Sentiments on sale.

Relationships on sale.

Lie rusted once they grow old.

As stories hidden in the corners that remain untold.