Seventh Sentiments

Olab

We built a house through texts.

Each paragraphs emancipates our woes.

The pillars created were shadows from our plights.

From shared stories,
Of nonsense but dreary quotes.

One day, there was sorrows.
The next day, there was joy.

Years passed and we kept the torch lighted.

Our unending ideas shared in memories.

To us it was family.

I became the Grandfather of a bunch of little kids.

One who likes games,
Another who likes songs,
A further who likes arts,
The other who likes acts.

And most of us loved cats...

But we all agreed to love shows.
It was the root of our house.

Different people with different ideas converged into one pot.

The pot was a crazy mixture of spices.
Oozing with lots of flavours.

And the many sages stirred that pot.
Each being the master of their own.

I belong to the literary department.

One time, we went on a gathering to complete the house.

There, we slept after a feast.
We played games.

I was the constant it.
They enjoyed the play.

We built our house through texts.

Sometimes, its utterly rediculous.
But more often than not, it was insightful!

Our house had no walls.
But it has pillars and a roof.

The house looked more like a temple than a house.

We are brothers and  sisters,
Being parents of  our own.

To share was our theme.

Be it the moonsoon season,
Or the vibrant yellow fields.

We built a house on such tiny world.

Whenever one had green dot beside their name,
All would be waiting for a summon.

One beep of a sound and a new text was sent.

At first we just shyly shrugged at each words written on our screen,
Then it didn't took long before everyone became familiar at the scene.

It became a part of our daily life.

"How are you, what are you doing?"
"Why are you still not sleeping?"

We put those words to say:
"I love you, and we care about you."

We built our house through texts.

We go home to that house each night to sleep.

For when we are asleep,
We are alive in our tiny world.

I wish to meet them soon.

I don't know what day is the next day,
But I am sure that one day we'll have our own little houses.

But for now, I was glad to be a part in building that house.

That house helped us plant our own seeds,

In the future we will have our own fruits to show.

Mine is apple, a green apple.

I'll be glad to see what fruits their seeds bore.

And hopefully, they'll let me taste what kind of taste it had.

I can already imagine how the boys  would boast their harvest.
Or when the girls might complain how one had a brighter color.

And  I am sure that even if we might have our own little houses.

We would all one day return to our house built from texts.

To us it was family.
To them it was a group chat.

Nevertheless, it was a house built from texts.

Remember:

Olalabsyou!