By The Bay

Sitting, looking out

this tower's windows,

across the bay

at the city skyline.

A beautiful city.

The fog slipping

onto the island's

tideflats.

It seems eerie --

with buildings

and industrial lights

playing hide and seek.

The bridge engulfed

by a silver, cerebral

sea--

and the cold fog

rolling, rolling down

and back upon

itself,

as if a stream

of vapors

flows along the

roadways of time

and space,

flooding the gutters

with lost loves,

faded dreams.

the last reflections

of that secret realm

which only the eternal

fog can hide --

along with street-grided

mysteries of the city,

and the heart-of-hearts

which beats in building

and bridge.

Street upon street

winding down

with a certain purpose,

to finally end upon

the water's edge

where an ancient

stairway

descends into the bay.

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