Vanilla clouds drift across cinnamon skies

On promenades immortal I sit wondering why,

The ages of past lives don’t live on in the mind,

Except deep in the subconscious within the mists of time,

Whimsical notions of what may have been

As I now wander through the saffron gardens,

In search of the long lost lavender road

The leads me to places from times long ago,

Where silks and spices were carried as cargo

By merchants of trade in search of gold

And as I wander through this evergreen crested

Verdant green luscious hillside,

Through azaleas of dazzling colours

I soon get the sense,

That so much of life is created in mind

And you can choose as to whether it’s dull or sublime

But me I fill it with memories of beautiful things,

As I sit under the Bhodi tree listening to nightingales sing.