freshly fried tender fish
fat fingers of potato chips
lettuce, celery, oregano, thyme
a pint of erdinger, and some dips
...the afternoon passed by lazily
by the greens of singapore cricket club
indians smacking lips involuntarily
among cultured brits digging their curry
chinese socialites - males and females -
kissing the moist and warm tropical air
around the cheeks of their hosts -
sunkissed liberally, tanned slightly
but flushed profusely with the warmth
not of their local guests, but of
the land, surrounded by sea and connected
by bridges of cement not strong enough
to hold petty emotions at bay.
i sniffed the air around me
sliced the white buttery tender fish
spread a bit of tartar on the side
plucked it with a fork to savour it
but fresh as it was,
delicious as it looked
appetising as it smelled
wonderful as it was presented
i didn't enjoy it as much
as i would have,
if i had you by my side
spinning the yard of years to come...
i missed you this afternoon
my sweetheart
and can only count hours to meet you
after a long dreary day (for both of us)
at newton!
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