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THE OLD CITY
The old city stands, basking in the ever-fading glory of distant times. Bustling, it still is with the antiquated spirit of a civilization that flourished within its walls
The archaic structure peels off slowly, once thought invincible At odds with the bare luxury of advancement galore, stealing the space once all its own It clings to history it holds in its rattling bones
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The old city remains with somber grace, in parts, though lone and withdrawn Receding from the influx of metal and machine Yet holding its ground as the last reminiscence of an era that was.
This poem was by Nosheen Irfan, written in 2016.
