Oh How I miss


Oh How I miss

the carefree morning teas with you

gossips and complains and trivial shares;

the Tuesday yoga class with pals, sequencing each week

the mandala, the Yin, the warrior and the moon;

the neighbourly hi’s across garden wall,

watching laundry flaps against rising sun.

Oh How I miss

the lazy afternoons in front of the PC,

squeezing  the creative juice for another page

just so I could see my words in print;

the leisurely lunches I have with you,

of spinning salads, medium rare roast beef and Yorkshire pudding;

the me time at the spa,

for the massages and facials that I sorely need;

the movie treats I share with Bee

the dramas and romances that no one wants to see;

Oh How I miss

the evening jogs along the waterway

exchanging greetings with familiar faces,

pausing at the 2.4km mark just so I could boast,

of my weekly distance ran, which never could match with yours,

before running back into the setting sun,

to watch for frolicking otters having their fun.

Oh How I miss

dinner with the little ones,

of conversation about papayas,

and how it left the farm in Malaysia,

and landed as a piece on your fork.

Oh How I miss

the days I don’t have to wait

20 minutes for bus 77,

to join the daily squeeze in the MRT

or do the mundane stuff that I do at work

even if I am told the work we do is very important.

Good old days, are you missing me too?

 

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About vickychong

Just an ordinary woman.
This entry was posted in Me!, Poem. Bookmark the permalink.

0 Responses to Oh How I miss

  1. Pingback: Gratitude  | Vicky's Writings

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