the jet will fly

i'm not much of a poet. so when i randomly craft a poem with the help of a much more talented friend, i get excited and want to share it. Lines in orange are mine, those in grey are hers. yes, there's a reason i didn't major in lit:

flu flu fly away,come again another day!
notti melvin wants to play
notti boii notti boii
jumping up 'n down with his toy
toy boy, boy toy
young and old come, don't be coy
what you looking at, don't so shy
its not the first time you're seeing my thigh
i konw you want it, don't lie
sigh.. i'm so high
don't leave me.. er.. dry?
no no you'll be wet
and fly like a jet
ok set!

the resevoir

The reason I dare post this is because I'm pretty sure my readership has dwindled to near zero (I hope).

It was late. It was dark. Saw a really big moon in the sky. Dozens of stars dotted the unusually clear skies. The breeze was calm. The waters were still. All was quiet except for the occasional bus passing by in the distance. So I was pretty sure we would... But we didn't. Instead, I watched her sleep in my arms. For most of the night.

And that was way better.

:)

the crystal ball

TIME has got to be the most ingenious of all creation.

It allows memories and experiences, both good and bad. It allows the maturing of the mind and the gaining of wisdom. It allows progress and development of anything and everything. It allows historical moments and fervent hope in the future. It allows the appreciation of what we've been put through. It allows the appreciation of what we've been spared. It allows one to move on. It allows the slate to be wiped clean. It allows new beginnings and fresh opportunities.

It is the gateway to the limitless window of the past, present and future. It is pure. It is untainted. It invites the best in us. It makes us want to do better. It urges us to set things right. It encourages us to press on. It gives us hope.

And whether we choose to spend the crossover in quiet prayer at church, or at home with the family, or out in the cold on the streets of Time Square, or at random countdowns at Clarke Quay or other party spots, it is this hope that brings meaning to those of us who bother to look for it.

So here we go.