Tropical City
Speak to me of youth, and breezes warmed by the sun
The breezes that falter down cool alleys
In the city built in the sun
Speak to me of flower vendors, and the beggar boys that run
The old ones who stagger through dusty roads
Of a city built in the sun
And I'll tell you of a hundred days when I wished all was well
Of the hours passed in fantasies
When my mind on thoughts would dwell
On greatest trains and rains and sounds of cricket games being won
of lotuses flames and evenings
In the city built in the sun
poem by Vera Sidhwa
Added by Poetry Lover
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