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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