A bud waits for the sun, opens its arms,
Its parent ascends in resilience
Sense of belonging is like rooted plants,
A secure feeling when holding hands
Old shophouses narrate a story
A humbling abode of past glory
Memorable talks with a little game
Only friends are left to share the pain
Green parks filled with people’s daze
Responding in an amiable gaze
Excitement bright, dancing in the eye,
A oneness of community under the sky
Little help when the body turns weak,
A slowdown in life as it completes,
Contemplating identity it tells thee:
‘Age singles out but doesn’t restrict me.’
