Whispers Of Summer Palace Poem by Jaspreet Kaur

Beneath the sun's watchful gaze,
Where time stopped, frozen in place,
With all its dignity and pride,
Stands a palace, worn yet bright,
Its beauty untouched, yet still so grand,
Buried deep in time's golden sand.

Peeling paint, faded names, crumbling edges,
and a silence deep
Whispers of opulence echo,
Layered with stories—forgotten and untold,
Sagas of power, resistance, and rebellion.
The walls, the winds still sing a name so great:
Maharaja Ripudaman,
Who witnessed moments of triumph and despair.

Did he sit here?
Did he touch there?
Did he climb the stairs?
All we can do is contemplate...