The old grand medina,
Once famed for its great beauty,
With bustling alleyways packed with
common folk and thick smoke
Furnished with eclectic selections
Of vibrantly ranging djellabas
And glimmering lanterns,
Possessing the utmost variety,
And I, favouring a sultry red.

In this bracing climate,
I stroll pass a provincial area,
Witnessing the penury which lies
amongst dilapidated riads,
Surrounded by decaying sidewalks,
Forming the shape of deprecation
Across my face.

However, the most harrowing of all,
Is the plenitude of the crippled,
Deprived of everything but meagre rations,
And a penny to spare.
Pondering over the question:
Does anyone truly care?