Dust,smoke and tar fill the narrow street.
On rainy days water swallows my feet.
Live,work and complain about the horrid smell,
But the beauty hidden in it not many can tell.
Stalls,stores and pickle are islands amidst the muck.
Stories of wonderful people and of hard luck.
Partition,war and war the rooftops have seen.
Objects that have gone to places we've never been.

Dust,smoke and tar look past it my friend,
I promise you will find beauty around the bend.