The Promise Poem by Kwai Chee Low

The orphans's favourite haunt was the bridge,
decrepit and crescent shaped
like the half moon above.
When the dreaded time came for parting
they promised to meet there again.

Every year he waited on the bridge,
scorched by the sun, scorned by the rain.
Till birds returned to their nests,
till stars shimmered in the water
and farmers trudged home from their fields.

The crescent moon lingered with him,
as the purple dusk darkened into night.
Memories of their childlhood,
the good times and bad,
were all that were left.