Penned By B D Narayankar
Whenever I happen to pass by the Goodshephards
I shut the engine of my bike
Sit with eyes closed
And hear the rhythm of the winds
On the roof of the trees
Seconds later, I see the gust of winds
caressing the cheeks of the trees
Just like your wavering hair had kissed your lips
In that symphony of winds!
This memory of yours haunts me
Whenever I pass by The Goodshephards
In the neighbourhood of St Joseph's College
Where I once studied
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