dreams of the East

I dreamt of walking through the East,

In sandals donned over tired dusty feet.

As I crossed the hazy oriental lands,

I saw peasants bent over fields of yams.

A festival of lights lit up the night,
A thousand lanterns gliding away like kites.
Prayers were said and candles were put afloat,
The river ablaze with tiny bamboo boats.

Swimming in waterfalls, wind in my hair,

Wearing sarongs, light as the air.

The sun was amber and red.

As it fell and died, the colours bled.

 I strolled through crowded streets,
Vespa's everywhere were honking ‘beep ‘beep’.
Mountains inland and at sea towered above,
The butterflies, up the path and over the water; I was in love.

Forgotten temples and bullet holes,
Horrors which sent shivers through my very soul.
Stories of atrocities tugged at my heart,
Children faces, after their deaths; immortalised art?

Street vendors offer spicy noodles dish after dish,
Feasting on crabs, prawns and freshly caught fish.
Markets selling fruit on the river float,
'me love you long time' the noisy city gloats,

Waking up was mundane,
To see familiar a terrain.
All that was left was a dream, a memory,
Of a place where the old world fused with the contemporary.