World is an interesting Place ,
I see it ;
with a window I call Mind ,
And its open all the time.
I see roads, with bed sheets of fresh rain water;
Reflecting the near gray clouds ,
The mountains by busy roads,
And many electric towers Power stations and slums,
Where street dogs compete with street men,
To survive in daily den.
I see crowds, unending head counts,
Moving like silent army ,
I see pondering old men,
Sitting by the shade; in pink shirts,
With their hands tucked under their cheeks,
And eyes closed, as if eternally.
I see babies crawling near bus stops,
Tied to a soft wooden pole;
By their mothers.
I see endlessness of endlessness
And buses, rikshaws, too much of foul air
And I see love too;
the young Girl I liked Kissing another man.
I see laughing faces by rectangular buildings,
Made up of glass and lot of new age jazz
I see it ;
with a window I call Mind ,
And its open all the time.
I see roads, with bed sheets of fresh rain water;
Reflecting the near gray clouds ,
The mountains by busy roads,
And many electric towers Power stations and slums,
Where street dogs compete with street men,
To survive in daily den.
I see crowds, unending head counts,
Moving like silent army ,
I see pondering old men,
Sitting by the shade; in pink shirts,
With their hands tucked under their cheeks,
And eyes closed, as if eternally.
I see babies crawling near bus stops,
Tied to a soft wooden pole;
By their mothers.
I see endlessness of endlessness
And buses, rikshaws, too much of foul air
And I see love too;
the young Girl I liked Kissing another man.
I see laughing faces by rectangular buildings,
Made up of glass and lot of new age jazz