Passing by
dusk casts its veil gently
as I walk along
this quiet street
under winged elms shedding
flaky white blossoms
at my feet
the hour is my own
no one here to nettle my peace
other walkers, far and few,
wave or smile occasionally
people come and people leave
I have learned to let them be
for on these intersecting trails
we’re passersby, you and I
© Neetu Malik
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