Remembering Bangalore

God's own garden

Walking on the road with my eyes closed;
Thought of the time I had once roved.
Feeling the breeze I open my arms;
Wind passes through, taking me along.

The roads are broad, shaded from the trees;
People sated the park, problems left at ease.
Sliding from the top, turning round the clock;
Kids play around - no one to stop.

Music plays by, an old regional song;
People gather around, singing along.
A peculiar scent just hemmed in;
Lost I was, in havens inn.

No prize for guessing -that’s my den;
Bangalore my friend, is god's own garden.

                                                               -Pavan Kumar Venugopal