Dreams of our Childhood.

Today, a little child
approached me with a big smile
and big, soulful eyes
of his innocent years.
He said hi to me,
a tired old soul
jaded by life's toils,
and struck up a conversation.

He started talking about
his grand plans for the future,
how he wanted to be
just like his father.
His words conjured up dreams
of a bold new reality
too farfetched and impossible
for the hopelessly practical world.

Yet, I was stunned
into utter speechlessness
by the boundless, expansive
imagination of a child.
Not so long ago,
Wasn't I exactly like
him with all my dreams,
and my hopes for tomorrow?

At what point in time
did we forget about everything,
that truly matters in life
for the practicalities of today?
When did we become
the jaded and numb souls
bereft of all the ideals
we treasured in our youth?

The mother comes
to collect her child now,
and as she bustles away,
I cannot help but wonder.
Is this what being a parent
is all about?
To see in every day
a new vision for the world?

Untitled Haiku

Those halcyon days
when we used to be lovers
seem like yesterday.

On The Seven-Thirty Train To Nowhere

"Doors closing,
Please stand back......"

Once again, I am returning home
from the toil of endless days,
Moving through an icon of my homeland,
A microcosm of the society I live in.

The faces are all spent. Theirs is of
a tale of life in the concrete jungle,
Saturated with fatigue is the air in the chamber,
A weariness of the city in their eyes.

The garish make-up of a woman past her prime,
A poor self-deception of one's own beauty.
The wizened old man, more bone than flesh,
A remnant of days gone by.

The office girl in her work dress,
Shouldering the weight of a hectic day.
The 'mat' in his hip-hop wear and spiked hair,
Face drawn in anticipation of weary times ahead.

A young couple cuddling by the door,
Seeking companionship in these lonely times.
A boy playing with his baby sister,
unaware of the fate waiting for them both.

All this I see, just in one walk,
down the aisles of the seven-thirty train to nowhere.
The reflection of the numbness of Singapore's people,
all hiding themselves behind masks of non-feeling.

I get off the moving museum of Singapore,
watch it depart with its exhibit of her society.
And Iwonder where they are headed for,
these hapless citizens of an uncaring reality.