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A usual story

Standing on the tiny balcony of the 20th floor
I can smell softeners of a running washing machine
Tentalising sizzlers roasted with hot fish sauce
Burnt petrol and diesel oil roughing on the road
Dcent of lemongrass sprinkled on papaya salad
I can see lights bedazzling the skyscrappers
Traffic creating rows of fairy lights
Flocks of birds queuing up for an early return home
Umbrellas popping some corners of dusky streets
I can hear the clinking beer mugs of old friends
Metrolines rampwalking and criscrossing patiently
Car wheels twinning the hassled noise
Thunders shining and rhyming every now and then
Whispering winds swirling and twirling enough
To make me sense the presence of a familiar sight
As the city wakes up to yet another rain-soaked night
****
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