The yellow streaks
Through the rainy clouds,
The sculpture towers, above
The winding traffic;
No one waits, to hear
From you and me,
To discover, what is missed
In this, rush of the hour.
The strange trails
Grow familiar, day-by-day,
And follow us, irrespective
To arrive, where we belong.
Through the rainy clouds,
The sculpture towers, above
The winding traffic;
No one waits, to hear
From you and me,
To discover, what is missed
In this, rush of the hour.
The strange trails
Grow familiar, day-by-day,
And follow us, irrespective
To arrive, where we belong.
No comments:
Post a Comment