Home - Poem by Surabhi Bhattacharjee
It is the time when
Slowly merging into an evening.
Golden lights upon the treeless streets
Sitting down through a haze of dust,
Teeming crowds of men and women
Settle down like a red winding sheet
On the serried tumult
Of the town.
People shut up under their
Little path of city sky
Within their city walls
In this passing moments of passing poetry
My memory goes to my home.
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