Pigeons will still fly
In that sea breeze
My hand will still hold you from the waist
I will still drop you at that Yari Road flat
Love will still ride us
In that Andheri fast local
I would still want to be kissed
In this sweat, grime, gunfire of Mumbai
1 comment:
Am happy to see poems flourishing on pebbles again with little sweet fragrance of hope and life out of death, destruction and pain.
Mumbai is badly hurt, so is the soil of this country. but pigeons will still fly, love will still bloom, Mumbai will still thrive.
missed this sweet and short poem yesterday.
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