A Portrait of My City

Zigzagged streets and crisscrossed lanes,
Brick walls and stained window panes,
Flaneuring down alleys in vain,
Strewn with human follies and pains.

Concrete towers with colours pale,
Old mansions do tell a tale
Of history written with wood and nail,
Of Sinners strong and idols frail.

Life teems here with eager zest,
So does death, the final rest.
Between them, a game of jest
Being played in this growing nest.

Hopes rise with the sun, gloom reigns sunset.
Fates and lucks duel in this place of bet,
Where omens prevail and prayers are unmet.
Stories sway between applause and regret.

Memories form out of smoke
By the sidewalk. Unique melodies invoke
Urban muses. Sounds and sights baroque
Casts spell, makes oppidan desire uncloak.

From lamp posts, party flags unfurl.
On gridlocked streets, cars snarl.
Chauffeurs shout and insults hurl,
People toil and dogs gnarl.

People abide a life of curse or nurture,
Trapped between the past and future,
In modern homes with ancient structure
Stitched together with a flawed suture.

This city of mine will endure,
Ambitions, both profane and pure.
Some, it will disenchant and some lure,
For, many it will harm but maybe a few cure.