Over the Malayan tracks at Upper Bukit Timah

6.25pm

I chased the sunset
To the rain-drained train tracks
Browned with age
And blossomed with wisdom
Old gravel stones
Grey and touched by the moods of nature
Spilled each side
Guarding, loyal and silent
Yellow beaked mynahs in a pair
Lost in play in the brittle bush
While scouting for the evening’s wormly meal
And the trees, wild and wizened
Holding proud their callused leaves
Bending forward
To touch the transient wind
And as the bald blue sky
Turns magic orange over the Malayan Railway tracks
Nothing dies…
The murmur of the rubbered wheels on the roads
Continues speaking of a different story
With a louder language
Coloured with impatience
Covered with feeble excitement

6.58pm