The City

The transition from the rushed city life to discovering what she really enjoys. This poem follows the journey of her discovery.

pexels-photo-196667

Every morning as she waked ,
the drums and bells of the temple,
the azaan from the mosque,
and the noise of the traffic,
served as her morning music.

The early morning hustle,
Rushing, to do everything on time,
Tying her tie running downstairs
And catching her breath while waiting for the bus,
served as her morning coffee.

Running in a race where she thought she belonged
and winging it perfectly,
Was her drug to Happiness,
But ,
It just never felt Right.

Her mind had started to wander a little more,
Her ears found peace with the silence of the night,
Her feet wished to drown in the soft sand and be tickled by the sea.

The various sounds  of the morning
no longer felt soothing,
The early morning hustle,
no longer excited her,
it was then she knew,
She did not belong to the city anymore
and
It just felt right.

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