She stands lonely
by the gulmohar tree,
Hidden away,
at the edge of the street
Nature plays fiddle;
pours down rain, unseasonal
She stands dejected,
steeped, in that scenery, rejected
Her shoulders convulse,
I discover,
she’s not part
of my memories impulse
The showers, seem to take away her tears
Before they spring, they are theirs
As I stare unabashed,
I am stripped of the veneer
That cloaks my soul
An obsessive observer
Trying to, in her myself, uncover
The lights change
Gears, to move arrange
Eyes, but, still stake out
from vision, as she slowly peters out
Hidden away
I wonder...
what..., whom she cries,
for..., over...
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