There is no promise of fast cars, bikes and blings;
but of buses, Dynas and dugouts.
There is no promise of hotels, motels and cocktails,
but regales of tales and gales of laughter.
Amidst the chit-chat chatter,
of chirrups and chirps,
over gurgles and babbles
of eddies down dales and vales.
Buai stains, Blavk earth and blue skies.
To cool nights of endless stars;
Chandelier of celestial stares
witness the passion of this fire.
Even in the dying embers,
your eyes will hold their flame,
as I catch the glint in ‘em.
Heart beats in staccato to head rush,
like the distant roar
of the Baiyer wild in perpetual rush,
beneath ancient shadows of stoic Mul,
who thru tufts soft of shifting shapes,
in silent whispers of hallowed zephyrs,
breath your name in the quite cool.