White There's something about my city - Here angels walk through the clouds, With their backpacks on. The clouds, that are clinging On to the eucalyptus leaves, And are waiting to drip down At a time of their own. Here the meadows run up Till the blue mountains, to get lost forever, And sings here a river named Song. Tomorrow, when you are back to your hustles, Do remember, that a lonely cloud is still waiting, At some hairpin bend. It would wait for you to take you to the other side Of the mystic mountain; It would wait, till you come back here again. ©Kaushik Ghosh #kaushik_poetry
