Still You Sing At the Foot Bridge
At the Footbridge he used to sing,
Whenever I pass, my heart will swing,
Never heard such a sweet voice,
That made me not attracted to any other boys,
Every morning and evening I used to drop one,
And wonder whether he is a poor man’s son,
His grubby shirt and mucky pant,
Always begging for a grant,
His hair was curled to dirty brown,
But I always dreamt him like a king with crown,
No thoughts without him,
He is the hero of my beautiful film,
May be a beggar at the Foot Bridge,
But he made me beg for his heart’s smidge,
My sympathy turned to a blind love,
Whatever people think he is my life now,
At the foot bridge with full josh and joy,
So many butterflies and flowers to enjoy
With a greeting card and rose I went,
And searched for my man’s foot print,
So many fans standing around,
Not for his song but his body in ground,
I kept my rose at his feet,
Let his soul rest in peace,
Days rolled and months passed,
At the foot bridge I always forecast,
Every morning and evening I used to drop one,
For my love still sings though there is none.
18 July, 2016
At the foot bridge contest
Sponsor: Julia ward
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