Poem : The 32nd Floor

On travel to Marhaba City.

Poem: The 32nd Floor

The sand storms of the past
Shape shifted those dunes
Whatever shape they appear
They were still mounds of sand

Like a seed that grows into a tall tree
Birdies flock to the branches to nest
A home to rest, nest, and make family
Bearing a life of thousands

A desert trading post without oil
The seed of somebody’s dreams
The dunes become skyscrapers
Today, it is home to the many who flock.

The winter sun ambles like a sloth
From the cabin I sit, I scarcely notice
The tall cranes that swing by
Weaving another dream in the sky.

Standing on the 32nd floor, I dream
At the pinnacle of a building
Staring at the other peaks
Born out of the seed of another dream.

~Ashok Subramanian © 2025

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