The ‘beeping’ city rises to a quiet sea,
With the mighty ship floating in the clouds.
The city celebrates it's physique,
And blooms to the 'beeps'.
The moon hides;
For the sun to kiss the go-getters.
The wide screen; a confidant,
Speaks to the minimalistic country,
As the aroma of lemon grass;
Dissolves in the bustling aspirations.
The warps and wefts,
Speak for the dreamer;
Chic prints flaunt their way,
In the conditioned commute.
The minimalistic city;
Celebrates its physique yet again.
The aroma of lemon grass,
The brewing coffee,
And the draft beer,
Compliments the weathered corridors;
Running with the go-getters.
The ship still floating in the clouds;
And the streets full of themselves.
Why this maximum city with little words,
Has so many words and worlds?