Puddle in London, May 2012
Everywhere we go,
We leave behind a part of us.
Every city it seems,
Seeps into our souls.
Its essence, its history.

The people we brush part,
In the streets of Delhi.
Those we sit beside,
In London's double-decker buses.

We only judge them by appearances,
We know not,
Their tales of happiness and sorrow.
Those who stood beside them,
And those who didn't.

And yet when we look back,
To our travels.
When we share our stories,
We talk of the queer residents.
Those who managed to capture our curiosity.


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