On that airy balcony, she ands alone,
Waiting for a sound of footsteps...
Footsteps, that are gentle but restless.
As the day is closing in
She stands there, alone.
On that empty balcony,
Smoth floor, reflected the sharp angles of bougainvillea flowers;
The glimmer of the western sky made them alluring, but elusive.
She waits there.
Beneath her, the rhythm of life is moving on,
The pulsing of the crowd, underneath, mingles with her throbbing heart.
Yet, she is surrounded by an air of mellow leisure,
That springs out from an evanescent languish;
As if, she is encapsulated in a formless glass room,
That demarcates her from the rest of the world...
Suddenly, a faint sound of laughter reached those alert ears,
From a distant land. May be, from the other side of a long corridor.
It waveres in that half-lit, lonely balcony,
Like the drops of rain falling down from the leaves,
Even long after, the rain has stopped.
At once, sharp shadows of leaves transform into a tangible,soft reality,
At once, the city enfolds in myriad flickering lights and dreams.
The pale sunlight merges with the strings of street lamps and cars.
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pretty strong and astonishingly refreshing!
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