In the folds of a saree lives a world of melody,
Each beat of the drum carries a quiet longing within.
In every strike of the hand, a rhythm finds its voice,
In every echo of the drum, identity begins.
A smile softly hums with notes unspoken,
In every tune, life’s quiet dignity is woven.
This is not just sound—it’s an ancient song,
A gift of rhythm that has traveled generations long.
In every cadence lives the spirit of celebration,
In its pulse resides an entire world in vibration.
In every beat, the heart finds a voice again,
Speaking in rhythms words could never explain.
~ Dawn
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