Faces in the carpet
In my beige carpet
I see mute and sad faces
of people I have never met.
of the state of my somber mind
Which emphasizes failures
more than its opposite
and holds me back
from making friends of strangers.
I keep staring at the carpet
and my expectations rise
along with my hope
of receiving some answers
from the blank faces
about feeling lonely
in this over populated world
I flip the album
and see the statue
of Merlion in Singapore.
Group of fun loving teenagers
huddled around it.
One particular man –
Tall and aristocratic.
Big side-locks with a full set of dark hair.
Flared pants. Stylish and fashionable.
His smile – genuine and genuine.
I keep the album down
and look at the frame in front of me.
Portrait of the same man.
Still aristocratic and dignified.
Still with thick side-locks but bald.
No smile. Even though I told him too
He didn’t think it was necessary.
Wonder if it would have changed his mind
if he knew this would be his last picture
in the house by which he would be – remembered.
I pick the album again
and flip to another page.
He is trying to drink the water
falling from the lion’s mouth.
He seems jovial and mischievous.
A side I seldom saw in the 27 years
he cared of me
I flip the page again.
He is at a bridge –
The river and the whole city in backdrop
but he is alone with the same genuine smile
I keep looking at the smile