My City

She may be loud and noisy

Sometimes black as soot

But she’s lovely, my city,

colorful Bengaluru

In summer, she goes red,

Gulmohar,we call her then

The birds, chirpy and well fed

Make their home in her shade

The monsoons cool her down

As the heat gets to her

The smell of petrichor on the lawn

Removes the sweat and grime off her

Oh then comes the winter

Her roads are a colorful carpet

of flowers pink and purple

A hue,no paint,can own

Yes,she’s smelly,sometimes,horrid,

Tests your patience in the traffic jam

The noise,the wait in summer torrid

Or the rainwater gushing,as if

from a dam

But she’s great in her entirety

As sweet as the akash mallige she adorns

Whenever you have the time,stop and listen

Understand her mood,don’t let her down.

–Poornima Dasharathi

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