Sense of place
Red, blue, yellow and green
The carnival is in full flair.
Musical chimes lie thick in the air
With promise of fun and laughter.
Round and round the merry people go
Fists clenching fake guns, killing plastic ducks.
Melted ice cream and pink candy floss
Pop pop popcorn crunching, falling from overfilled mouths
Walking the dusty road back home
Leaving the loud noises behind
Where dead grass lay quiet and still
On the outstretched landscape
Trickle trickle, cold water dribble
Over smooth rocks, still.
Only the frogs dare to sing
While wet shoes reach the shore, marching on.
Lushes fruit trees with no need to share
Take in nature’s splendour
No tinkle of coins
Only blessings to count.
No comments:
Post a Comment