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i hate it when they mangle your
bubbling notes at hotel lobby
cafe, and parks when you have to
give way to the staccatos of stilettos,
tinkering of glasses, chatterings and slurpings
of japanese on their steamy noodles
or two italian men loud about their just
concluded summer holidays
it is like drinking tea with a mix of whisky
you are finest at the break of dawn
as scintillating streams of sunshine
and piano notes work hand in hand
to tune up the day with a good allowance
of morning mist touching up your favourite
bed of roses the soft breeze lifting ever so wildly
the strands of hair over your forehead they
move like your fingers a maestro over the ivory bars
the music drives us wanting for more as the day
dawn crisp and clear to spill all its goodness
sparkling like metaphors of your riveting pieces
john tiong chunghoo
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