. s i g h .

By Jia Tian Shi

a friend's poem
brought forth
some summertime remembrances...


the sound of the old iron fan
with its musings whizzing past
the dancing hairs of my younger self

the smell of grass heat and humidity
and the tic-tock of the wall clock
that was aways caught being five minutes late

shadow play on the yellow walls
while toes scrunched in the shag carpet
and my mother
in her blue striped sundress
swaying
making supper.