In the winding alleys of Marrakech’s maze,
Beneath the starry Moroccan haze,
Walks a silent army, paw by paw,
Their stories written in fur and claw.

Eyes like amber, souls worn thin,
They roam the night, where dreams begin,
Where lanterns flicker and shadows play,
These wandering souls know night from day.

No collar tightens around their necks,
No loving hand to pat or protect,
Their bed is dust, their roof the skies,
But still, a spark lives in their eyes.

In the souks where the spices fill the air,
They scavenge crumbs, a life laid bare,
Once beloved, now unseen,
In a world that moves like a restless dream.

Yet when dawn breaks over Fez’s stones,
And the first call to prayer sings from homes,
They greet the sun with hopeful hearts,
A life of scraps, but still, it starts.

Oh Morocco, land of golden sand,
Can you not see what’s in your hand?
A thousand hearts that beat so true,
Seeking just a touch from you.

For every stray that limps alone,
There is a heart that once had a home,
A spirit strong, yet full of grace,
Yearning for just one loving embrace.

So let us remember those forgotten paws,
Lost in a world that gave no pause,
For in their eyes, we see our own,
A plea for kindness, a wish for home.

May they find the warmth they’re searching for,
A quiet corner, a gentle door,
Where the nights are safe, the days are kind,
And love is something they can finally find.