Papa And Goa Poem by Georgina Avita Austin Simmons

I'm reminded of a time when we were young
and how we travelled to the golden sands.
The night we left was filled with rain,
it was as if the heavens could not explain
the explosion, the lights and the sound from yonder.
We were huddled together in excitement and glee
so happy that we were off to see much warmer shores, than gloomy seas.
We set out by train at eleven in the night,
the train snaked and crawled all through the dark night.
We were trapped in compartments without a light
my cousins and I were snuggled so tight
and anticipated the morning light...
At nine next morning we alighted in three's
but a minor set back in our group,
we lost more than three.
Finally, we continued along,
hearts shining and free
the bus we travelled along,
passed mountains and trees.
We were tossed and we turned and continued to burn,
until at last we reached the sea.
Papa was the most exicted of all to see us there,
he stood ten feet tall.
The little house was filled with fries
and all were surrounded by goan spice.
Our days we spent in child-like glee
on golden sands, blue skies and seas.
Nights we spent round bonfires so high
singing, dancing and merry making through the nigh.
When at last it was time to part
my papa was the saddest of the lot.
He wanted us to celebrate with him,
as he became a child once again like us.
We burst a lot of fire cracker
and thus we said good bye to every other...
Papa was very sad to see us go,
it was the last time we saw him so.