Waltz

At half past 6 in the eve, I was on a bus.

Along Tiong Bahru road, I spied an old man on the road.

Steadily he pedalled his trusty bicycle along the bus bay, one exposed knee following the other.

A load of cardboard trailed behind him, occasionally wavering like a koi's tail.

I gazed at him from the cool of the bus and wondered about this man.

Was his life difficult?

Is he unhappy?

At 10 past 10, I was on an escalator.

Along the sheltered walkway outside AMK MRT, I spied a basker.

It seems that every night without fail, he sings here with his trusty electric guitar.

Tonight, it was a country waltz.

In my mind, I imagined the old man on his bicycle and all these words would be the lyrics to the waltz.