In this mild cold city

I don’t know what to do
In this mild cold city
Where every alley is closing their mouth
For the pretentious frantic of middle age
Every tower destined to measure them
marked their forehead with some unseen trace
kind of Badge of Shame but yet Nocturne goes on
in a French cafe nonchalantly, only a Siamese cat
stretches its slick body with it mysterious jazzy ears
exhibition goes on in the gallery, only elixir of life
for the sexagenarians and they gather and gathered
in this mild cold city then I took a Rickshaw at 9 pm.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s