City Poem by prabhakar bhatlekar

Trains were always crowded
but City was young.
Traffic on roads was not much
because Gothic structures
were singing different tunes.
Little restaurant of art gallery
remain less crowded for City.
Tree-covered road coloured
with dead leaves, gone quietly
to the hill, leaving behind
naughty sea calling.
Air would kiss the fragrance
of the bodies and the City noise
turns in to whispers.
Now City is like lost dream