Dilapidated building of ornate grace,
wrought iron trellis and stained glass face.
Ancient trees climb tumbling walls,
cobble streets clamor and swanky malls.
Wide sidewalks where the homeless rest,
here, an infant suckles on a child's breast.
Unsuspecting lambs nibble sugary stalks,
while butchers mop blood off grimy walks.
Azaan soars high with temple bells,
clashing in heavens as hatred swells.
Fakirs and beggars in beads, bowls and rags,
fat marwaris, betel stained, on shop fronts sag.
Crackling skies and suffocated evening air
torn open by rains, ending a nightmare.
Mangoes flavor the kerosene haze,
while sheltered, I sip my tea and gaze.
