The night embarks, or dark ages,Flocks returning to nests, congesting the city,Rush hours begin, honking and jamming,Few like us aren’t in hurry, waiting by the bus stop,Chatting over trivial episodes, perhaps making memories of lifelong,Evenings spent miles across, freedom, I could return at anytime,No one to ask, hardly any anticipation,I am home now, thus my phone rings, cozy wintry dewdrop.
-Ayana Ghosh
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