I Like A Poem Wait For It

When you become a page and wait for the words to write the story

Some cities will remind you of that city which you left behind.

Those stairs leading to the basement, the wide corridors in the metro station.

Those narrow lanes with caramel fragrance the riverside and the sky silently saying goodbye.

That pink which spoke to me many times, the many poems which like fragrance of freshly baked croissant lingered in the air.

That coffee in which I stirred those silent thoughts and those walks across the bridge.

Sometimes that city visits me, speaks to me and I like a poem wait for it.