Sydney, First Impressions

The irony of the chilling wind 

Summons the neophyte on a summer day

Sydney, you felt lonely.

Your train stations channel centuries of history

The rust on the railways evaporate into the air

Forming rustic marriages with the countless graffitis

That travel with me into your suburbs

Lined by untrimmed trees whose irregular canopies

Highlight the view's randomness in the expanse of your many spaces

Filled by brick, small houses; grasses filling the cracks in the pavements

You smell of pure earth, organic and unfiltered.

Your people, they are great

They seem to come from a joyous eternal spring

Their pleasantries sparking with enthusiasm

Not a fan of short hi’s and hello's

But love the stretch of asking 

‘Mate, how are you today?’, all the time.

They love to chill, did I mention the beach in Bondi?

Their sculpted bodies flat carpeting the fine, white sand

I look at them from  afar while I squeeze lemon 

Onto my fish and chips prepared by a Greek lady

Whose kitchen whiffs of smoke of a great day ahead.

And as I started to gain traction of your daily rhythm

I realise Sydney, you are not lonely at all.

The quietness in your suburbs and train rides

Complements your vast skies and waters and lands

It tempers the cheerful warmth of your people

The yin in your yang

Absolves the melancholy

The pangs of my introverted soliloquy.

The irony of the chilling wind

Summons the neophyte on a summer day

Sydney, you felt cozy.