Post - it

goodbye, city

Long distance phone calls,

And the tickets have been booked.

I hear tales of the mountain weather,

And of the people whom I had once called friends –

They are all alive and well, dating, broken up, single.

The bags here in the plateau are being pulled out of the dust,

Ready for one last trip across the country.

The farewells are slowly taking shape;

My borrowed mother whom I love stitches me dresses,

My friends let me keep their things,

And I sit on my roof and watch the late mainland Indian sunset.

My chest slowly fills in with mountain mist,

And an aching farewell for my now old home.

I embraced this city like infant sleep,

First unwillingly, then never wanting to be woken up.

And I love it with all my heart.