On Each Passing Mile

Ah, Moogly - the moon in my sky;
Or moon in the puddle as I cycle by;
The lights shine but reflect your smile;
The road gets pleasant by each passing mile.

The sweat that beads down on my head;
Speak of the strain that lies ahead;
Of what you understand from my blogs;
Of what you see from my previous slogs.

Engineer, journalist or PR man?
None I suspect, but it's not plain;
For in my heart lies a truer love;
Something that slips on like a velvet glove.

It is a tad sad being unable;
To pursue a love so able;
One of design, one of buildings;
One of art, one of imaginings.

So one journeys through a varied life;
Making train stops by the countryside;
For when the view is sweet and lovely;
One forgets one's true, supposed journey.

But why quibble of a tasty draught;
That neither with money nor gold be bought;
As I cycle far and again ponder;
Of the myriad loves life has to offer.

I think of Moogly and a certain wax;
Of a football place and a certain hex;
Placed on those who happen to chance her smile;
Again I am not alone along each passing mile.

- by TC Lai