Where do you go, my street,
On and on with no stopping,
Till the dead end of the oceans,
Or the foor of mimalayas,
Rich is your path with trees,
Mountains, villas, huts, compexes
Avenues very many,
Shops on banks, manking
A living for steert vendors,
On your a billion Vehicles
Jammed with the pedestrians,
Old men taking a walk,
Streetwalkers looking for customer,
Life teems round the clock
somewhere, and lonely in others
You have no parrell but
Your kind winding up and down.
Ravikiran Arakkal
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