A Poem (but not the one I'm reading at the thing...)

The school kids at dawn, up and ready to learn,
The careful footsteps through the thin littered pass,
The smell of the smoke as the fallen leaves burn,
The long rickshaw rides to our Hindi class.

The silence of nights on Sukhdev Vihar Streets,
The gates that will close at eleven o'clock,
The footprints we make with our dirty feet,
The size of the crowds found in Chandi Chowk.

The chai-walla's selling their magical drink,
The beggars at traffic lights asking for alms,
The way that the old men just sit there and think,
Like old Mughal tombs now surrounded with palms.

The Delhi I know has much more than one face,
From rickshaws which putter along oh-so-slow,
To the markets which move with incredible pace,
There's a lot more to Delhi than I'll ever know.