There’s a corner in my city,
Taj
where in some, minstrels still swoon
but for those from afar.
Never in the nights of the chai seller.
In paralysis, my city.
They come with madness to see ours,
but the white engulfed us.
I earn my keep, like the minstrels, the
chai seller, and the royal tomb,
I live in a city that you never see,
Taj.
-Zohaib
About the Poet-
Zohaib is a Literature Major from India and adores poems.
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