Hazy Sunday
Sunday makes time
For certain bliss;
Jazz stirs new rhymes,
Plain that and this.
Market trip calls
To stock up food;
Brisk walk finds stalls,
Buy sundry goods.
Fresh meat and fish,
Shrimps and sea catch;
Thoughts of fine dish,
A gourmet match.
I grab foodstuff,
Speed home quickly;
The load feels tough,
My steps weary.
The humid heat
And windless road
Conspire to beat
My awkward load.
Stop by a shop
For Sunday Times;
A paper hop
To bag news chimes.
Now stride for stride,
I struggle back;
No time to glide
In easy slack.
Mere minutes stretch
A half mile walk;
Oomph holds the catch
In fine self-talk.
The winding road
Greets my footfalls;
Hands juggle load,
By ancient walls.
Leon Enriquez
26 October 2014
Singapore
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