The sun pokes its face.
Through the gray haze
From the rough top
I sit in my own peace.

Morning over Ahmedabad
Above the sandalwood trees
The feeling that is only found in dreams

The baritone call of a waking bull
The buzz of a motorcycle passing by
In the market debates of the price of dates
The clinking of the spoon stirring the mornings' chi

Morning over Ahmedabad
It is much m...

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