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?



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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