happy birthday

These eyes stare out of the window,
longing for that summer rainbow.
The crisp dew-like sigh that floats,
a sound that I can almost see,
that makes me wish I had a boat.

The rhymes that I form in my sleep,
in the dreamlike state that is so deep,
the crisp, tender touch,
that gives me -oh so much.
Who can save me now,
from that painful… ow!

She reminds me of a shiver,
that involuntary tremble,
that sets off a sliver of warmth,
resembling pleasure,
resembling fear.

Oh how I miss her twinkling eyes,
her sparkling smile,
her shining aura,
her various other cliches.

Even her strawberry scent,
I knew it meant,
that now and again,
I must abstain from those thoughts.
Of her.

Eyes that glisten like the fresh snow,
you told me about this afternoon,
snow that falls once in a while,
snow that beggars belief,
snow that is cold to the touch.

I’d kiss you for your birthday,
If I could grow wings,
If I could swim, run, fly, bribe, extort, blackmail,
my way to China.
Underneath that veneer of childish manliness,
and a slight fetish for overpriced things,
I’m your friend always.

Happy Birthday, Beautiful girl.

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One Last Return

I’ve said many times already, that “This is my last trip to China.” Somehow, it never is quite the last trip. I return again and again, invariably with excuses, Oh I’m here to visit friends, to visit family, to visit the Suzhou Museum. But, sad to say all these excuses are only part of the truth. I think I’ve begun to call it home. A second home, A place where I can feel safe and somehow know my way around. And yet as time has passed, as I’ve been away, this feeling has also worn away ever so slightly, its a little like returning to a place you’ve lived in many many years ago, and finding that the new owners have changed the colour of the tiles, sold away your secret hideaway cabinet (Or you tell yourself).

Somehow, after all the changes that Singapore had undergone, when I returned it did not feel that different. Whereas Suzhou was like going back to an ex girlfriend, or so I hear lol, my ex *singular* is not like that… but trying to sound literature-y is always difficult… anyway back to the point, its like returning and finding that she has aged, she’s had work done that didn’t quite turn out well *botched boobies* etc. It was quite disconcerting and yet quite reassuring. That time has passed and I am but only one small part of this great and unstoppable machine.

The changes wrought on the “small” Chinese city of Suzhou, has not, fortunately, changed the way my parents treat me whenever I return to China. There was the outburst of emotional caring, lots of loving, extra food, general attention being given to me. If not for certain things that did happen whilst in China, I’m certain my gratitude would have been boundless and eternal. Underneath it all, I think my parents probably find it rather odd that I’m no longer by their side, and I am just generally glad that I still have such a place in their hearts. *Still can’t teach me to drive properly though*

I am blessed to have met up with my friends, Amy, Tanja, Ben, Jocelyn, Vi, Trixie, and all the SSISians that remember me etc. I am blessed to have been showered with affection, to have gone to see a ballet, to take and give precious things. I am being sentimental, and when I’m sentimental I can’t write without slipping into theatrics. So I shall stop. I love y’all.

You Know

You Know when You think about her,
When you think of the gentle touch,
the stiff breeze, and the softness that glows,
the broken hearts and tender promises,
the dark, knowing smiles,
and joyful grins.

You know.

In the Still of the Night
Cole Porter
In the still of the night
As I gaze from my window
At the moon in its flight
My thoughts all stray to you

In the still of the night
All the world is in slumber
All the times without number
Darling when I say to you

Do you love me, as I love you
Are you my life to be, my dream come true
Or will this dream of mine fade out of sight
Like the moon growing dim, on the rim of the hill
In the chill, still, of the night

Like the moon growing dim, on the rim of the hill
In the chill, still, of the night