OLD THAT NEVER GETS OLD

I always appreciated the innate charm of antiquity

in my own skins.  I celebrated the joy of black and white being alternatives of hope and despair, colors are beautiful but they never intrigued me as if I was color blind . I always wondered why so much of vintage love in me? May be the conditioning between ancient souls that turned me into an ancient soul or the beauty of ancientness itself.

There is something special being an ancient soul, may be the promise of neoclassicism or the promise of beauty itself.

Ancient souls, too old to be weaved in poetry are throwback to the era where souls hankered to heal and blossomed like never before.

Beauty in beauty, believer in belief

Appreciating the world through ancient eyes

Like a sunburst candle

Bringing sunshine at every tick

Like an enchantress

Spreading vintage spells

Like a French wine

The older the better

Like a vintage bloom

Blossoming to be in blossom

Like a Roman candle

Illuminating the illusions

Like a Danish credenza

Too old to be modern

P

–          Bhavani Rao

an avid learner who likes to connect dots

Hyderabad, Telangana, India.