| |
A
Copper Coin
Pick this coin of copper, not silver or gold,
To reflect on times remote and things old.
Sweat and grime stained its faded face,
Touched by trouble, toil and tedium that time won't erase.
Heads it is - and look, a sovereign of the Straits before,
Flip it over - it's a cent, but a cent of Singapore.
Rickshaw pullers earned it running here and there,
Like beasts of burden - yet, little to eat or wear.
Into the safe of our hearts we slip this copper coin
That the fading fleeting years don't take, nor thief purloin.
This vintage coin, a witness of time, is surely a special thing,
A better treasure than a minted gold-crowned king.
Eleven Customers
Eleven customers - one custom
That's hard to fathom -
A common meal by the roadside -
Tastiest and dirtiest side by side.
Eleven customers - one stall
A craggy face that greets all -
Crouched and bent on a crooked road,
She cooked - whatever her culinary mode.
Not minding the mix of dusts and smell,
Nor the woman's yap and yell,
Still stood squeezed, perhaps squatted too,
Those lovers of tasty yong tau foo.
Outdoor dining in Chinatown -
No vanity, no sitting down;
A feast is a feast, to say the least;
At least, this feast will cost the least!
Copyright Reserved: Andrew
Yip |
|