Rain Forest Trek
Sneakers treck through the rain forest
Eyes a wandering through the tree tops
What's that sound we want to know
In the city we do not hear this
The marvel of the monkey ladder vine
From ground to the trees grows strong
Strong enough to become furniture
To listen to your guide is wise
For some of these plants can grab and hold you
Never wanting to let you go
But its okay to breath in the sweet
Fragrance of the incense trees
© gillena cox 2025
Last year, i bought a pair of silver sandals.They glitter in the sunlight. I admire my own feet with toes also painted silver.
This obsession with silver is not new. I suppose it will carry on long after the pair of sandals are no more wearable.
a long time ago
the pair of silver bracelets -
my husband wore one
© gillena cox 2025
Magnificat of Morning - A Fold
Morning bespoke of bird song,
Wends her way in andante strides,
What could ever go wrong?
Sunrise, moonset, is morning's magnificat
As we know, bespoke of bird songs;
Fantasy of the earth standing still
Has been sipped like fine tea in long,
Pandemic permission curtailed days,
Still, will not cower to the fiction,
As Covid spanned its own season,
Even to morning bespoke of bird song.
© gillena cox 2025
Saltfish accras were a breakfast treat
I'd sit on a kitchen stool to eat
Shuurr the sound of falling into oil
Hot enough to fry or boil
Food and fancy are still
The taste memories never at will
Let go of her cooking
© gillena cox 2025
Fireworks
The night sky alive with the sound
Of booming colours lit,
Showers
Its impermanence though not found
Distinguishable fit
Flowers
It is more spectacle than awe,
Keeps the eyes peeled skyward,
Even
Curiosity of night law,
Colours drift and award
Heaven.
© gillena cox 2025
Still awaiting?
Mr. Goodbar aint a coming!
He done that to many ah
Bit-O-Honey
You can call that his signature;
Charleston Chew and Sugar Babies,
Waiting at the bar,
Order: one more double, battender!
Three Musketeers enter;
Aint you a little bit young
To be sitting on the stool Sweetarts?
Mike & Ike shout across the room,
Let them be Watchamacallit!
They pretty enough to be 'ere
And they send over watermelon daiquiris,
For the Dots.
But no, my childish tantrums, prevented me from hearing the thunder and loving it. Seeing the lightning and being awed by the spontaneous brightness of a dull sky.
This is how betrayal, fools the unassumming, the naive, the young and unspoilt.
