By: Zeenat iqbal Hakimjee
As you leave for greener pastures, Tears flow down the cheeks at your departure.
The migrating bird flutters its wings, For it, the season is here to sing.
The Bentley turns round the corner, Disappears from sight, now and forever.
I shall miss your nudge and touch, For our friendship, others could vouch.
But since the ‘Sea of Gold’ is at a distance, Leave for it right now, this instance.