My life remains coloured,
this season by the tired Sun,
who smiles on party mammals
warming up, merry indeed.
But the gold plated evenings
are not for me, never any more!
I was dragged out of this feast
a fine day, when my uncles
were not watching my back;
for I had a beard, and gloves
to fight, but I never could
punch the thug down and
now I sit in pain as
evenings turn to night and boys,
they laugh for they have
a new morn coming.
Alas, I have only tales of loss,
of those numbered pics in paradise!
He did seal the door tight,
before the toddle all high;
groomed n dressed for the
feast - the one he earned
with tears he tried to stop
in vain, even with sunglasses!
His fingers burnt a bit,
but rewarded with a gut full of pride;
for he obeyed a mama
and a dame, he loves 'em both!
Don't go into deeper waters,
his mother had wished him best,
a li'l after the kiss and a
good-luck lesson from his lady afar!
Oh dear, I ain't fine;
I come to thee
a broken man;
with the love song we
danced once, and its bliss,
lost with the fog rising
from the numbers in my mind;
which help me sweat
out the sins I happily
stuffed into my veins.
But, I do have you,
for here I am in your arms,
panting for your breath
to ease my clog...
The wise ones float and get swept
into a cone by the shallow winter,
letting the old watchdogs of
this Colonial Fort light
a bonfire to keep the native stings
away from their cubs, near the bay;
but the smoke signals usher in
a time for love…
Glossy ones on the beach path
get eclipsed by late noon;
for the humid Queen glitters
in a mat-finish; her powdered cheeks,
a gift with kisses from the Highland Lord,
whose songs let the bells chime
for the Anglo Choir and their Hallelujah;
it's time to rejoice…
And find joy in the blend from
Desi chefs with foreign rum,
the grains fermented with plum;
sweet enough to make you plump,
but kids, we swarm the baker's pride.
A slow jog and it's hard to miss
the dancers burning Santa, they're high;
a new life! From the ashes it's born.
A time for life with all its charm;
Christmas is here; ah, the infant's scent.
