A city, a rickshaw, a window mine,

The city
Comes
Like a bluerickshaw,
By the wall,
Through window glass mine,
Standing so sleepy,
Unoccupied,
Primordial,
Symbolism
Of the city...
Its unique solitude,
Amidst a Saturday bath...
Amidst hurly burly...
As spiritual existence of Be ing
A three hundred year old and more
Bracing new with the old,
And growing forever...
Growing...
Evolving...

As evolves life,

As evolves times,


( Note: the picture/photo is taken by me, as usual, real time)

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