Clementi wakes in morning gold,
where coffee steam and stories fold,
where buses breathe, where footsteps start,
and sunlight taps the town’s warm heart.
The market hums, the shutters rise,
soft clouds drift low in western skies,
and every block, in cream and green,
holds little lives in quiet sheen.
Once there were swamps and kampung lanes,
backyard trades and silver rains,
farms that listened to the breeze,
small homes tucked beneath the trees.
Now Clementi stands and sings,
through MRT tracks and pigeon wings,
through kopitiam cups and school-day shoes,
through aunties sharing morning news.
The town was shaped in earlier years,
with HDB hopes and human cheers,
a place made whole with shops and light,
with paths that glow at fall of night.
At Clementi Central, noon comes bright,
glass doors shimmer, escalators light,
The Clementi Mall begins to gleam,
like a city folded into a dream.
Students pass with books in hand,
their laughter loose as grains of sand,
from poly halls and campus roads,
they carry futures, bright as codes.
But turn away from crowd and sound,
and softer Clementi can be found.
The trees lean in. The shadows stay.
The afternoon unthreads the day.
At Clementi Woods, the breezes climb,
through leafy paths and slower time.
The park keeps watch above the sea,
a green hush wrapped in memory.
There, every branch becomes a line,
each falling leaf, a small design.
The air smells deep, of rain and bark,
of sunlit dust and cooling dark.
Then Sungei Ulu Pandan flows,
where river-light in silence glows,
where cyclists pass and herons glide,
and ripples stitch the banks beside.
The park connector bends and gleams,
a ribbon tied to waking dreams.
Its waters hold the moving sky,
while old rail ghosts go whispering by.
Clementi does not need to shout.
It lets its beauty wander out,
through void deck shade and evening rice,
through temple bells and market spice.
It lives in ordinary grace,
in every weather-softened face,
in every corridor, warm and wide,
where memory walks at someone’s side.
So come with eyes that move more slow,
where western winds and river lights glow.
Let Clementi’s quiet music stay,
long after you have walked away.
