With welled up eyes,
I call upon your name,
one last time.
A goodbye
to the Gulmohar trees,
soldiering the streets,
and to
the sublime sunsets
in neon prints.
To the old roads,
I'd pace down
in drizzles and winds.
Oh, my lovely mate,
perhaps it's true
that I fell in love with you.
Your traces,
etched in me,
like the periwinkles
along the boundaries.
Would you miss me,
like you promised,
roaring through
the empty halls?
Call upon me,
as I,
with a sunken head,
take the soil to go,
looking back
at the days before
with a bittersweet smile.
Dearest Bhilai,
adios for now.
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