HARVEST OF MOON

The harvest moon, a golden, gentle gleam,
Casts shadows long as winter's grip recedes.
Lohri, a flame, a vibrant, joyful dream,
Where laughter echoes, and the spirit gleeds.
The bonfire crackles, casting dancing light,
On faces warmed by embers, bright and bold.
Folk songs arise, a symphony of night,
Stories of legends, bravely, ages old.
The air is sweet with til gur, sesame seed,
And jaggery, a taste of winter's grace.
Farmers rejoice, their weary souls are freed,
From toil and hardship, with a joyful face.
So let us sing, let music fill the air,
For Lohri's warmth, a blessing beyond compare.