Hazy sky, a plane is coming
In for landing, flying low over
The city, carrying people from
A Snowland escaping frozen
Lakes and long winter nights.

The coffee in my cup ripples,
A tiny circle from its centre
Spreading to the edge and a
Teaspoon peals on a mountain
Top somewhere in Mongolia.

Strange day this, voices afar
Give a message of calm,
Car horns are melodious and
The ever-present dogs bark
In synchronised harmony.

The postman knocks
A letter from India,
Still warm from the sun in Bangalore
And an aroma of exotic food, dust
And Ganges tickle my nose.

A letter from a beautiful Princess?
Declaring her love
For me. A promise of lasting passion
Under tropical stars
And a moon that’s always full?