The city <br />Where I lived the pinnacle of my life <br />Wandered through the notorious streets <br />Inhaled smoke of petrol and hashish <br />Wrote my poems on its walls and gates <br />Loved the western charm of eastern beauties <br />Saw misery dancing on weak faces day and night <br />Witnessed pious bodies at sale on roads each midnight <br />Laughed at my helplessness when called overqualified <br />Cried with saints and poets every Thursday night <br /> <br />The city <br />Where a man committed suicide <br />Because he couldn’t feed his child <br />I lived here and survived <br />The bomb blasts, wars and disasters <br />But I died the moment <br />When one of my city fellows said <br />“You are not one of us as you were migrated here”<br /><br />Dr Kamran Haider Bukhari<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/lahore/
