A Poem for Hong Kong

With the same view for three weeks, I decided to write a poem.

"A man grows most tired by standing still."

21 Days

“Japan” hails as the land of the rising sun;

“China” translates to the center of the universe;

“Hong Kong” literally means “fragrant harbor”--

I see: the art of centering this universe around the sun;

while the sun rises, the buildings rise hirer,

yet majestic mountains still maintain their spotlight;

chi flows through every whisper of the wind,

each clothespin-adorned shirt flapping on the rooftops;

after watching over the bustling shuffle below, the sun yawns;

the sky is dusted using the same color palette as the buildings;

fruit stands tease the rainbow, families frolic by the playground’s fence;

the air is littered with honking horns and freshly baked pineapple buns;

while the sun goes to sleep, the city never grows tired;

one by one, lights appear in every window,

a backdrop of dancing fireflies instead of stars;

winking, the moon promises to retire, and a new day begins.