Old neighbourhood

The old neighbourhood,
Still has all those things,
I think,
Associated strongly
With our memory,
That lane
Through which
We ran our bicycles,
It is still there I presume,
And that long boundary wall
Of Mr. Robinson,
White one, running for yards,
Upon which we stuck posters
Of our favourite cricket players,
Kirmani, Kapil Dev, Shastri and Vengsarkar,
That wall has stayed there too I think,
And that beautiful road with palm trees
On both sides, running like a dream
To reach the end of sky behind those hedges and bushes,
That is still there, I guess,
And that watch tower
From where we could see miles of green cover,
That is still there, I guess,
With its iron staircase,
Spiralling up,

The old neighbourhood ,
It is there somewhere
I think.

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