Marrakesh at Dusk
In the heart of Marrakesh where red walls glow, Ancient winds through alleyways softly blow. Lanterns awaken with amber light, Painting the souks in a golden night. Spices rise like whispers in the air, Saffron and cinnamon drifting everywhere. Voices mingle in a timeless song, Where wandering footsteps gently belong. In the square of Jemaa el‑Fnaa alive with flame, Storytellers call each traveler’s name. Drums echo under a desert moon, While dancers move to a mystic tune. Beyond the noise, the palms stand still, Guarding secrets of the Atlas hill. And stars above the city seem to say— Marrakesh dreams will never fade away. — Meenakshi Singh