From my sea view terrace
I can see the dawn coming –
A gleam of plum
Seeping through the charcoal sky,
Shades of black colouring the harbour
Peppered by the necks of abandoned cranes.
The sky is not alone tonight –
I feel entire galaxies envelop me.
The miniature islands are planets silhouetting towers,
Street lamps and traffic lights radiate starlight,
Day masquerades as night.
I watch my cat gingerly walk across the edge of the terrace, and I realise
It’s just him and me and the sky – we are lucky to witness these soft moments the sleepers miss.
For a few quick minutes, the earth lets us into its esoteric inner life,
Before the world wakes up, the news comes on, and the coffee shops open. Before minds stir and lips move, before we exchange pleasantries.
Here we are not yet stripped raw from the space between moon and sun,
Sacred because it’s fleeting. A little sad, but not enough for tears.
As sunrise inches closer, charcoal becomes milk.
The darkness lifts and I look down at my hands, pale and bright. Plum nails that I tap.
If I sit quietly, I can still hear it –
The hum of human silence. The shakiness of a lone truck rumbling across the roads,
The heartbeat of early morning.
Sophia Wu is an American writer based in Hong Kong. Growing up between Washington, DC, and Beijing, she found a passion for international communities from an early age. She went on to study Mandarin in Shanghai and later earned her Master's in journalism at Georgetown University. Her stories focus on culture, relationships, and coming-of-age, exploring the many facets that shape our identities. She's currently a content strategist in the luxury travel industry. Her other interests include crafting floral arrangements and spending time with her cat, Louis.
Beautiful 🤩