A Late Walk Poem by john tiong chunghoo

i walk through the lane again
now all tarred, laterite
the gravel all gone
with the pieces of my life
they hit the soft spots
under the feet
aching the soul
the mind spreads out
in so many lustrous petals
in a circle of joy
a luminuous lunar disc rises
over the horizon of the years
the lengthy lane
now so short for the legs
once so short
childhood friends, neighbours
they saunter back, stare, laugh
a diamond in the gravel sparkles
at the back and fore of my eyes
the heart leaps to a warm nest
of bygone years
filled with feathers of every kind


inspired by

A Late Walk
When I go up through the mowing field,
The headless aftermath,
Smooth-laid like thatch with the heavy dew,
Half closes the garden path.
And when I come to the garden ground,
The whir of sober birds
Up from the tangle of withered weeds
Is sadder than any words
A tree beside the wall stands bare,
But a leaf that lingered brown,
Disturbed, I doubt not, by my thought,
Comes softly rattling down.
I end not far from my going forth
By picking the faded blue
Of the last remaining aster flower
To carry again to you.