It's only a few more weeks to the 'Chung' festival...rice dumplings, dragon boat races...a poet who died for the sake of his country...friends who threw rice dumpings into the river to keep hungry fish away...
right about now, i should be thinking of all that.
and yet, my thoughts are of the mid-autumn festival (somewhere in September) i can see the moon and Chang O in the realm of my imagination, and i just finished writing a poem with the title 'Mid Autumn in the suburb'.
when i was a child, it meant lanterns, mooncakes, and 'heong far paeng' (i wasn't too keen on mooncakes until last year...now i think im sort of in love with them :) )
mid autumn...midway between a love that could never see daybreak and a sorrow that near stopped the beating of the heart...mid autumn when i saw candles and adoring stares that dripped into wax...when i felt the tears inside, they could not flow, they were frozen...mid autumn when i had a glimpse of a future that knew only one path...dead ahead...how i stood statue like and said nothing...what was there to say? for a moment, for such a long moment, i did not know what and where i was...only longing for this nightmare to pass.
i was falling, but who was left to catch me? the ground was there, she knew...
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