Meter ticks slow on George Street rain
Wipers push the harbor mist again
Passenger unfolds a paper square
Nineteen eighty-two lines drawn there
Blue ink veins trace the city's spine
Ferry routes kiss the salt water line
Steps counted down to Circular Quay
Dusk paints the bridge a steel grey
Old map folds where the harbor wind blows
Counting footsteps where the dusk light goes
Taxi waits while the timetable shows
Night shift hums as the city slows
Coffee thermos steams on vinyl seat
Radio plays a soft jazz beat
Map creases deep from years of use
Each fold a street I cannot lose
Old map folds where the harbor wind blows
Counting footsteps where the dusk light goes
Taxi waits while the timetable shows
Night shift hums as the city slows
Paper yellows, edges fray
Digital screens lead the way
But this map holds the salt and time
No satellite can trace this rhyme
Opera sails catch the last gold glare
Bridge arches hold the cooling air
Footsteps ring on the sandstone wall
Map remembers every fall
Driver knows each shortcut, every bend
Passenger trusts where the lines extend
Harbor lights blink a Morse code song
Journey ends where we both belong
Old map folds where the harbor wind blows
Counting footsteps where the dusk light goes
Taxi waits while the timetable shows
Night shift hums as the city slows
One last fare and the engine knows
Map folds shut, harbor wind blows
Footsteps fade where the dusk light goes
