In A New City Poem by BASAB CHAUDHURI
In A New City
The sun is climbing down—
I walk past
tall buildings, schools, offices,
roads folded
into the pocket of the city—
quiet.
Trees stand,
birds keep singing,
ladies and gentlemen stroll along the roads;
happiness, unhappiness—
a strange amalgam.
I walk.
So many doors—
not one
for me to enter.
That is when I realize:
I am a stranger.
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4/22/2026 8:52:18 AM # 1.0.0
