It is an ode to a cloud
Oh puff of vapourised water
your white contrasts the blue
and when the sun comes down to set
you turn an orange hue
You give the sky its beauty
you halo 'round the moon
You hide the sun when it's too hot
and bring us the monsoon
From all the corners of the world
you gather your electricity
your tendrils whipped and feathered
curled turn dark as you storm the city
but at dawn when you stretch
unfurled on the horizon
you are most pretty
The pink city
A palace of a thousand windows inhales the scent of desert musk in the Pink City. A queen of a thousand hearts accepts gifts of fresh spices and desert fruits of a caravan passing through. A pink lotus mosque of a thousand prayers fills the ears of every god with devotions. An old man of a thousand wisdoms sits in the shade of a desert palm, watching. Watching people come and go, buy and sell, love and hate, live and die. A witness and an instrument for something greater. A desert of a thousand sands swallows all mortal splendour until all that can be seen of the Pink City is a smudge on the canvas of the horizon, veiled by a deep night of a thousand glittering stars.