| |
Like the heavily over(down) cast day, He enjoys the company of clouds. Tears, when offered him the wet hours, He gulped them without sounds.
A few streets and a few corners, Of the city he grew in. Chugs like a goods train, Lost in its own din.
Pramod Khilery
| Submitted Date |
: |
Friday, April 04, 2008 |
|
|