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
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