Zeenat Iqbal Hakimjee
As you leave for greener pastures,
Tears flew down my cheeks at your departure.
The migrating bird flutters its wings,
Over for it, is the season 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.
