The last night

And it feels like a day before,
When she entered her alter-home lurking behind the door,
Twelve weeks as the letter says, she is going to live in this city,
Create new stories, in the town, city’s vicinity,
She saw from her window, the sky reaching towers,
They made her eyes gleam as her dreams settled down par,
She has always thought of reaching the heights,
Mundane life is never her plight,
She started her first day dressing up in the tinge of orange,
Discovering the land, people, weather, all once strange,
Strange things always carry the mysteries,
The light lurking through the darkness, the sun coming from the wild clouds in spree.
She has an insane way of dealing with the new,
She wants to taste the life at once, brewing it in her favorite stew.
The city is an amalgam of wild shimmers and serene showers,
She loved the way people walk on the lanes, agile gestures reflecting power.
She tried to tune her rhythm with them as day passed,
She sometimes felt like an alien disk hovering across mars.
She traveled alone,
She traveled far,
She traveled with her soul-alike,
She traveled across the altars,
The more see wondered, the more she felt the chills,
That now she lives a half-round away from her native hill,
She walked on her colored pairs and covered the roads stretched far,
In the rains, in the sun, in the signals, across the bars,
Her mind swayed in the rhythmic notes of the classics,
In earplugs sometimes fell when she heard the rushing traffic,
She often loves to hear the sounds of the vehicles, revving down the alley,
The signal’s bell,
The skates board trails,
The cheering performer,
The lofty rope walker,
The chatters of the mob,
The clusters of the swarm,
The shimmering lights down on the distinct road,
The pole star sticking to its place on hold,
The signboards with new marks,
The flower baskets hanging from the barks,
The spokes of the bicycle wheels,
The tapping of the elegant heels,
The masts with high flags,
The skyline, the highest tower in the stretch,
The green grass with yellow flowers,
The misty land with sprinkler showers,
The big black squirrel performing Martian arts,
The merry couples cheering wide playing cards,
The distinct convergence of the sky and the sea,
The harmony, the strings, the boundless words coming aside the tree,
The seagulls flying high,
The wallets turning down dry,
The shops, the bars, the clubs, the streets,
The tinge of new tastes, the savories from different cuisines,
The symphony on the radio,
The poetry on the daily notes,
The smile from people unknown,
The first glass of beer, with the one whom she now owns,
The fall, where you wish to drench high,
The color of zeal, that never let you dry,
The collateral stream of water and frolicking feet,
The ice cracking in the wine glass, the fire cracking in the dree,
The stars shining above them, when she took the first move,
The winds moving past when he subdued,
And she couldn’t stop thinking,
The infinities are bigger then they know,
Sitting in her chair,
Staring the city,
The last night,
In its unusual glow.
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