Terminal City

It is my city
Across the inlet
Vibrant and beautiful
Mundane and passionless
A sometimes sleepy little town
On the edge of it all
Terminal city

But from here
Across the inlet
It resembles only
A small forest of brick and steel
Concrete and glass
Its denizens
Too small to register

And so it seems
Grey
And lifeless
But like a cupful of ocean
It teems with unseen activity