San Francisco Serenade

In the city where the silver fog

Rolls softly through the morning air,

There stands proud Golden Gate Bridge,

A crimson dream beyond compare.

The gulls dance high above the bay,

While cable cars climb singing streets,

And sunlight spills on painted hills

Where ocean wind and skyline meet.

At Fisherman’s Wharf the sea lions call,

Beside the boats that gently sway,

And chowder warms the wandering souls

Who pause to watch the fading day.

Through lantern light in Chinatown,

The dragon colors brightly glow,

Old stories drift through market lanes

Where fragrant teas and spices flow.

Upon the heights of Twin Peaks,

The city sparkles far below,

A million lights beside the bay

Like scattered stars in evening’s glow.

And painted proudly row by row,

The Painted Ladies softly stand,

Guardians of another age,

Still watching over sea and land.

At Palace of Fine Arts by the lake,

The quiet columns dream in gold,

Where lovers wander hand in hand

And timeless tales are gently told.

So San Francisco sings at night,

With jazz and fog in sweet embrace,

A city woven out of light,

Forever crowned with timeless grace.

                               — Meenakshi Singh