Sydney

Sydney — fair, clean, kept.

We stayed in the north. The Opera House — seen from across the water.

The office side, the morning, busy with feet.

South: shops, then more shops. The light rail almost the length of it.

Double-decker trains. I loved them.

April 30.

A short rain. After it, a rainbow, bright and whole — as if heaven were watching, kindly.

To see Sydney from far away, that I prefer.

I do not belong to this city.

This city does not belong to me.

And yet — when I press the shutter, for one breath, our times and our spaces cross.

On the grass — people reading, people sleeping.

On the sand — reading, eating, playing volleyball.

The day was clear. So were they.

Close to the city. Gulls everywhere. Houses bright with colour, in rows.

For me — an afternoon borrowed.

For them — any other day.

Quietly, I envied. Quietly, I was drawn.