50 F.... st
From the roof terrasse
Across Milsons Point bay
The deep blue waters shimmer
Yachts bobbing up and down
In the tide’s current trying to escape
Seen trough the wrought iron of the balustrade
Shaded by the high angophora branches
Sipping a tequila sunrise
Why, I wonder, would anyone
Wish to travel overseas
When A Brett Whitley spreads itself
In front of my very eyes
Enjoying a quiet afternoon
Such a serene vista
Opens to your sight
Drop your worries
From the troublesome world below
Golden stolen moment.
Lucette C. Bailliet
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