‘The Place of the Dead’ by The Secret Poetess

© The Secret Poetess

Let me tell you a secret about a Marrakech square.

You’ll see monkeys on donkeys & snakes in blonde hair.

Women in veils talking fortunes on plastic.

Hands in black Henna tell stories, fantastic.

Smells reach your nostrils, spices to relish.

Sun on the neck, the heat can be hellish.

Zoom into the distance, Koutoubia shines.

People walk with their awe, in disorganised lines.

Coffee & ice-cream, mint tea by the pot.

Snails in a sauce, they’re not everyone’s lot.

Tajines, and skewers – meat off the bone.

Locals & tourists, some all on their own.

Rest on the wall, where the coaches line up.

Take water from guides, in a golden brass cup.

Look at the souls that most people will miss.

A shy young love wishing for THE kiss.

Old folk laughing as if they were young.

Musicians singing stories, yet unsung.

Artisans chipping at art that…

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