I spent a festival,
Spent it on riches,
That I couldn't fully carry.
My arms, not enough.
My bags too full
of clothes.
Full thoughts
escaped
For want of paper
chains.
Conversations overheard
escaped
leaking back outwards
For lack of pen.
The dust lingers
however
wrapped around
my bare fingers
And smells
In nostrils
come home.
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