It's funny,
I've almost felt the touch-down,
and the endless rally with Time,
testing my will, to see how far away,
I could reach out from her lap.
But every time I've turned around,
That forlorn road, that despicable distance,
It has seemed so hard to simply crawl back,
the shameful, whimsical home-coming.
And now that my caprice has become a habit,
Fainly do I realize her grace,
Solemnly they proclaim her as 'City Beautiful',
For me she is an angel incarnate.
(My apologies if I've referred to the city in the wrong gender but you would surely excuse my natural dispositions. Isn't it?)
1 comment:
Wow. You really have a graceful eloquence with words!
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