036 The New Year Series Finale

Here lies the last poem in the New Year Poem Series, which celebrates my return to Singapore and the lifestyle associated with it. Of course, these were the special moments that contain the elements that I cherish the most when I am here, that are, in order of the poems, my bed, the lonely walks home and in this last one, the days when it rains (not heavily, just drizzles) Now that this series in fully published online, it will not suffer the fate of the other poems I have written which disappeared when my laptop crashed last year, one of them was the NDP series, which was themed on Singapore, and a few loose poems that were written every once in a while, including my favourite, What Is Lost and Never Found in Toa Payoh, a most poignant composition.

So, presenting the last poem of the New Year Series, That Drizzly Day...

That Drizzly Day

Soft threads of water, falling,
A line of footprints walks swiftly away,
On hard concrete, the unforgiving gravel,
Holds small puddles on cold stone.

A solitary figure walked slowly in the rain,
Treading through water, mud and clay,
Cleansing herself, dirtying her shoes,
Her distance eyes looked at the heavens.

An easy breeze winds through the leaves,
And her hair, black, looked like grass,
Diamond drops run down her face,
To fall into the rough of the puddles.

Drops of water fall off the roof,
Into little mirrors on the floor,
Her reflection lights up every single one,
Of the broken shards that dot the landscape.