Whitley Road D8

The gentle morning breeze caresses the Angsana
That peeps into my lonely courtyard,
Luxuriant leaves swaying in rhythm
With the soft whispering of the breeze.
The sun slowly rises behind the trees
Bursts through the dancing leaves
And soft-focuses on my cell wall,
But not before its rays are sliced
Into hundreds of squares
By the criss-crossed iron grill
That encages the courtyard.
Thus patterned, the dappled light
Flutters ever so merrily on the wall,
Transporting me to the ocean floor.
And when the breeze is at its rest,
The leaves still and hang in the sunlight
Lo and behold!
I’ve got a lattice trellis in my room.
With creeping vines and Nature most divine
Who would have known
The iron grill that imprisons the body
Sets the spirit free
And imagination to run wildly.

Wong Souk Yee
26 July 1988

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