Singing, always: A poem 

Singing with the honey mead in the silver spoon 

Glowing like a gemstone jewel in the golden noon 

A platter of cupcakes of self-worth for breakfast 

Creamy beans of dreams through the night to last 

Even dark clouds quiver like leaves at my brave sight 

The rainbow dives like a blessed seagull to my right 

Sometimes, I feel I’m a magic sailboat floating in light 

A trumpet blowing from the breasts of a messenger in white 

I am a couturier, an architect, designing cornucopia out of poverty 

The gremlins bring laughter to my boudoir and lots of electricity 

I am full of thankfulness for the stork’s arrival announcing birth 

Dawn is the cherub of my longevity; the genitive at my girth 

The gravitas and humour mingle in a womb gravid with expectation 

Cheering on the sidelines of the arena, the poetry of citation 

Unspoken yet expressed love and valour is the fortress of a nation 

Its pastures are mellow as wisdom, its industry is goodwill in action