J. Stone,
I am very much enjoying your Asia experience poetry. I hope you don't mind if I share one of my own.
best,
Stitch
Evening in the Kempong
Li Choon grunted under the weight
But, as he had for most of his years,
The skinny old man lifted it
to the bycycle and then climbing on
pedaled off to the place
Where he emptied it, but to retrace
His steps again tomorrow.
Mei Mei smiled her rueful grin and
said, "that old man, does no harm."
"He's gruff but fair" she seemed to sing
I smiled to hear the song,
As she turned and slid the coins
in the cool dark depths of her sarong.
I wiped my forehead and cast a gaze
To the red ball sun
through cooking fire haze,
Hung low on the waves
that were turning more blue.
That same sun that, throughout the day,
Had scalded my neck, I had cursed it then,
and said to myself a farewell to him,
a bit sadly, while Mei Mei murmured in the shadows. |
