I take a breath of winter air and look across the strait,
at ghostly buildings in the murk of China’s great escape,
a hint of sulphur in my lungs mixed with particulate,
makes me ponder the madness of it all,
and why we all here wait.
For some the lure of shiny jets and bars of gold is great,
for others is a housing scheme that promises treasures great,
but in the end we all must leave before China seals our fate,
as I guarantee Donald Tsang will do nothing more than wait.
ps. I have way too much time on my hands.