A joyful occasion for all. Still keeping in touch after more than 5 decades ago, even among themselves. Among them Puan Sri, Datos & other distinguished personnel. They are the HSC Batch 1966/67 Anderson School Ipoh, all now retired successfully. All still looking young & energetic, fit & healthy. For the teacher (i.e.myself) a memorable lifetime event! A billion thanks to the class organiser Johan Yeong.
Paul Chong Friday, 4 January 2019
President Donald trump and President Xi Jinping
There’s a saying that you can’t tear a person down to build yourself up. It’s called “Tall Poppy Syndrome” – a perceived tendency to discredit or disparage & criticise those who have achieved notable wealth or prominence in public life. The tall poppy syndrome describes aspects of a culture where people of high status are resented, attacked, cut down, strung up or criticised because they have been classified as superior to their peers. This is what United States of America is attempting & doing to China.
In the animal kingdom, large animals when hungry always hunt & prey on the lesser animals. Once their hunger is satisfied they are usually at peace with themselves & others appearing to be harmless. It is known that an injured & hungry tiger or lion is most ferocious than ever.
Man can also behave like animal once he’s desperate, losing all his senses of reasoning, judgement and rationalisation. There’s a solution to every problem. Dispute, argument or conflict is best solved through dialogue instead of venting aggression or going to war. War never solve any problem . . . it only worsens the situation generating suffering & misery for the victims.
Let’s make each other great. China is offering utmost co-operation with economic schemes on a win-win basis. China does not go around bombing other countries to submission, or to destabilise & intrude upon other sovereignties.
Extend goodwill & diplomacy to bring about shared prosperity, peace & harmony. The present world is in shambles as it is. Why can’t wisdom & goodwill prevail?
This Chinese-Australian professor has a funny but true explanation about the Chinese people. Why do Chinese people work so hard to succeed in life? The simple plain truth about the Chinese is that they don’t go about bombing, terrorising others and causing religious hatred. We live peacefully with everyone on Earth.
Let’s share the glory, wealth & prosperity, peace & harmony. In expanding the economic cake, there’ll be more to go around. Let there be no more wars or even trade wars or tariffs (sanctions). Together we shall prevail, asunder we would be assailed.
Paul Chong Friday, 4 January 2019
Modern technology with email, WhatsApp, Skype, Massenger, Smartphone etc has made contact with loved ones, relatives & friends so very instant, convenient, free & easy. However, speaking from personal experience, I find to my dismay that most people simply don’t connect, bother to respond or reciprocate. Frequent exchanges of massages, information or even jokes are the avenues of staying in touch & be connected. Some people just love to be on the receiving end but uninitiated or not courteous enough to respond. People just don’t connect, too busy, ill-mannered or what.
We are constantly running around, too busy for others. We stop communicating with one another. Having a whole lots of names in our contact list without connection is absolutely of no value.
To best illustrate the difference between contact & connection, let me share this interview between an American journalist & the Buddhist monk . . .
Journalist – “Sir , in your last lecture, you told us about Jogajog ( contact ) & Sanjog (connection ). It’s really confusing. Can you explain?”
The Monk smiled and apparently deviating from the question asked the journalist: “Are you from New York?”
Journalist – “Yes…”
Monk – “Who are there at home?”
The Journalist felt that the Monk was trying to avoid answering his question since this was a very personal and unwarranted question. Yet the journalist said: “Mother has expired. Father is there. Three brothers and one sister. All married…”
The Monk, with a smile on his face, asked again: – “Do you talk to your father?”
The journalist looked visibly annoyed…
The Monk – “When did you talk to him last?”
The journalist, suppressing his annoyance said: “May be a month ago.”
The Monk: “Do your brothers and sisters meet often ? When did you meet last as a family gathering?”
At this point, sweat on the forehead of the journalist. You may wonder who was conducting the interview, the Monk or the Journalist. It seemed that the Monk was interviewing the Journalist.
With a sigh , the Journalist said: “We met last at Christmas two years ago.”
The Monk: ” How many days did you all stay together ?”
The Journalist ( wiping the sweat on his brow) said : “Three days…”
Monk: “How much time did you spend with your Father, sitting right beside him ?”
The journalist was looking perplexed and embarrassed and scribbling something on a paper…
The Monk: “Did you have breakfast, lunch or dinner together? Did you ask how he was? Did you ask how his days are passing after your mother’s death?”
Drops of tears were coming out from the eyes of the journalist.
The Monk held the hand of the journalist and said: “Don’t be embarrassed, upset or sad. I am sorry if I have hurt you unknowingly…
But this is basically the answer to your question about contact and connection ( jogajog and Sanjog)”. You have ‘contact’ with your father but you don’t have ‘connection’ with him. You are not connected to him. Connection is between heart and heart… sitting together , sharing meals and caring for each other ; touching , shaking hands, having eye contact, spending some time together…Your brothers and sisters have ‘contact’ but you have no ‘connection’ with each other….”
The journalist wiped his eyes and said : “Thanks for teaching me a fine and unforgettable lesson”
This is the reality today.
Whether at home or in the society everybody has lots of contacts but there is no connection. No communication… . Everybody is in his or her own world.
Let us not maintain just “contacts” but let us remain “connected”; caring, sharing and spending time with all our dear ones.
Wednesday, 2 January 2019
A diamond period ago when I was in school, teachers were “masters” with absolute power of class discipline & learning. They taught & punished with both hand & cane.With their hands, they pinched the buttocks or whacked your blocked heads. Their canes liked to cruelly taste your palms.
However, with due respect, most of our teachers were good & truly cared for our welfare. I recall particularly a number of Christian brothers who were really devoted. Brother Gaston, big & strong, a Canadian, would glorify with his tall tales especially about drilling a hole right through the earth & we would get to Canada.
Brother Thomas who hailed from Scotland was tall & handsome. I was rather poor in my English reading. My palm suffered many painful strokes of the cane from a tall lanky teacher for struggling to pronounce properly the word “crocodile”. I just had much difficulties with the rolling “r” sound. Brother Thomas helped me a great deal in my speech & reading. He advocated the way to speak & read well was to learn how to sing.
Brother Antony was my Most Unforgettable Teacher.
Teachers are the substance that schools are made of – breeding & nurturing students who will ultimately take their rightful places in society. Here’s a tribute to one such great teacher.
Brother Antonio was a man of most unusual and rare character. He was short and stout. No taller than five feet, he yet appeared every inch a man. A pair of deep-set dark brown eyes was hidden behind a pair of thick spectacles. He had an extraordinarily wide mouth from which fluent speech poured. A pair of sensitive ears enabled him to pick up any musical air in a second. Antonio was a scholar, a musician, an artist, and above all a great mathematician.
Mathematics had always been his favourite subject in school. He entered the seminary when he was very young. Surprisingly, he was not brilliant at first, and made a poor first attempt in the Senior Cambridge examination, but had an astonishing score of seven distinctions on his second attempt. This he would relate now and again to encourage the weaker pupils in his class.
Our Antonio’s voice could be heard long before he stepped into the classroom. He would be muttering to himself in his melodious voice as he entered, and no sooner was he in than he would be working laboriously on the blackboard. Not a fraction of a second was wasted. To him, to waste one second meant to waste precious gold.
Usually a class is varied in intelligence and attainment. Our mathematician had a fiery temper. The more backward pupils, slow to understand his explanation, would feel the full force of his rage. I vividly remember one occasion when he kicked his table so hard that he sprained his ankle. The peculiar thing was that he would later feel sorry about his stupid act and would tell us that it was punishment for losing his temper.
To make a silly error in mathematics was to him a moral sin. Time and time again he would stress the importance of being careful. If we were careless he would be vitriolic in his scolding. I recall that his most popular term was ‘fool.’ He elaborated on the word and his degrees of comparison were ‘fool’, ‘damn fool’ and ‘very damn fool’. At this he would roar with laughter.
Indeed, he frequently produced an atmosphere of gaiety. He conducted the school orchestra and he was immensely proud of his stance at the platform, as with baton in hand he conducted the flourishing orchestra of some forty members. Besides his talent as a conductor, he possessed a beautiful and powerful voice, which could be heard in church every Sunday.
Here was a man greatly admired by all who knew him. Apart from all his ability and knowledge he was a man of great piety. His occasional talks on moral subjects and Divinity swayed even some of the wicked hearts. At prayer he was fluent and composed, as if he indulged in direct conversation with God.
He lacked only one skill – he could ride a bicycle! I can still visualise the scene one Sunday morning when he was cycling back from church after early Mass in the rain. He was going very fast when he reached the school gate, and when he applied the brakes the machine skidded, hurling him through the air. His face hit the huge stone pillar, resulting in a very severe cut from the forehead down to his nose. His eyes were injured too, and his spectacles were smashed to pieces. He was confined to hospital for nearly three weeks.
He did not waste his time, however. He prescribed work to be done from his hospital bed, and as usual some boys would go up to him seeking mathematical problems, which he readily lent a hand.
Back in class he told us that his accident was designed as a punishment for his sins, and by suffering it gladly he had thereby cut short his days in purgatory.
SGI School Anthem
All through our classes a voice is resounding Promptly respond to your duty’s sweet call, Harken to all for the trumpet is sounding Your Mater’s proclaiming her watchwords to all. Forward her children dear Ever with hearts sincere Render with joy to your Mater her due All that is vile reject, Heaven will ever protect, Sons of St George’s Valiant and True.
Monday, 31 December 2018
Very appropriately as we bid farewell to the good old year of 2018 & welcome in the new year of 2019, that we take a moment to look back at our life . . . so as to have a better perspective of life ahead. Life is like being on “The Train of Life” – be it a High Speed Train or a traditional one.
It is my utmost pleasure to share this relevant story with you.
“Life is like a journey on a train . . . with its stations . . . with changes of routes . . . and with both thrills & spills and accidents too!
At birth we boarded the train & met our parents, & we believe they will always travel on our side & be with us. However, at some station our parents will step down from the train, leaving us to travel on alone.
As time goes by, other people will board the train; and they will be significant, as with our siblings, friends, children, & even the love of our life. Many will step down & leave the train & leave a permanent vacuum. Others will go so unnoticed that we don’t realise that they vacated their seats . . . which is very sad when you think about it!
This train ride will be full of joy, sorrow, fantasy, expectations, hellos, goodbyes & farewells. Success consists of having good relationship with all the passengers . . . requiring that we give the best of ourselves.
The mystery to everyone is: we do not know at which station we ourselves will step down, So we must live in the best way – love, forgive, and offer the best of who we are. It is important to do this because when the time comes for us to step down & leave our seays empty – we should leave behind beautiful memories for those who will continue to travel on the train of life.
I wish you a happy journey this year on the train of life. Reap success & give lots of love. More importantly, give thanks for the journey! Lastly, I thank you for being one of the passengers on my train!”
Wishing All My Readers A Joyous New Year!
(Source of story: Unknown)
By Paul Chong
Sunday, 30 December 2018
When you get to be my age, an octogenarian, you’d have experienced much in life. No doubt your experiences are very mixed in nature – joyous or sad, interesting, exciting, thrilling & venturesome, ups & downs. Life’s journey won’t be the same for all. There’s however one common denominator . . . from the womb to the tomb there’s but one room all of us.
We like to remember the good times treasuring fond memories. But time passes by so rapidly that we never seem to have time for leisure & pleasure. Live then a life without regrets . . . if that is humanly possible.
All creatures great & small work & toil for the good things in life . . . only the privileged few are free of such burden. In the case of all ant colonies & related wasps & bees, they have some fertile males called “drones” (aner) and one or more fertile females called “queens” (gynes), all working & toiling for their privileged Queens.
Herein below is a great story about the ant & wealthy man, which story is truly superb & a big eye opener . . .
“One Sunday morning, a wealthy man sat in his balcony enjoying sunshine and his coffee, when a little ant caught his eye which was going from one side to the other side of the balcony carrying a big leaf several times more than its size. The man watched it for more than an hour. He saw that the ant faced many impediments during its journey, paused, took a diversion and then continued towards its destination.
At one point the tiny creature came across a crack in the floor. It paused for a little while, analyzed and then laid the huge leaf over the crack, walked over the leaf, picked the leaf on the other side then continued its journey.
The man was captivated by the cleverness of the ant, one of God’s tiniest creatures. The incident left the man in awe and forced him to contemplate over the miracle of Creation. It showed the greatness of the Creator. In front of his eyes there was this tiny creature of God, lacking in size yet equipped with a brain to analyze, contemplate, reason, explore, discover and overcome. Along with all these capabilities, the man also noticed that this tiny creature shared some human shortcomings.
The man saw about an hour later the creature had reached its destination – a tiny hole in the floor which was entrance to its underground dwelling. And it was at this point that the ant’s shortcoming that it shared with the man was revealed. How could the ant carry into the tiny hole the large leaf that it had managed to carefully bring to the destination? It simply couldn’t!
So the tiny creature, after all the painstaking and hard work and exercising great skills, overcoming all the difficulties along the way, just left behind the large leaf and went home empty-handed.
The ant had not thought about the end before it began its challenging journey and in the end the large leaf was nothing more than a burden to it. The creature had no option, but to leave it behind to reach its destination. The man learnt a great lesson that day.
Isn’t that the truth of our lives?
We worry about our family, we worry about our job, we worry about how to earn even more money, we worry about where we should live – 5 bedroom or 6 bedroom house, what kind of vehicle to buy – a Mercedes or BMW or a Porsche, what kind of dresses to wear, all sorts of all these things when we reach our destination – The Grave.
We don’t realise in our life’s journey that these are just burdens that we are carrying with utmost care & fear of losing them,, only to find that at the end they are useless and we can’t take them with us . . . “
. . . a simple yet profound story!
Too good not to share . . .
To those of us who are now in our twilight years, this is a worthwhile read … profound message from the famous novelist YANG JIANG (杨绛) written at age of 103. She passed away at age 105 on May 2016:*
*Below is her beautiful meaningful message 善待暮年
Be Kind to Twilight Years
From the first cry on coming to the earth till the hairs turn grey, the baggage of our journey through life has filled with all bitterness and sweetness as well as ups and downs. Next, how happy can we be on the path of our twilight years will depend on our physical mental condition.
Life’s glory and splendor are all behind us and we are now just going through the daily chores of keeping life going.
Once we yearned for a glamorous life, now we realize the most wonderful and beautiful scenery in life are moments of tranquility.
Do not anxiously wait for the visits of our children. They have their own lives to take care of; they are like tops being spun continuously, sandwiched between the young and old. The old one is the evening sun, whereas the young is the morning sun, and of course the young will get more attention; this is nature’s law. It is human race survival cycle and no one can defy it. Please remember: our children is always more busy than us.
In life whether it is husband and wife or parents and children , no matter how harmonious and how close they are, each one is unique and an independent entity. Therefore we need to learn to cope with loneliness by finding ways to console and cheer ourselves up when feeling lonely.
In reaching our golden age, we have our self esteem and graciousness just like the cycle of the four seasons, each has its own grace and beauty. Smile & enjoy each phase of life.
Twilight years is the beginning of a good phase in life. It is calm, peaceful, unhurried & joyful. We have to maintain peace, be less demanding, more accomodative & forgiving, not to over reeact when receiving attention of being ignored. To stay or to godoes not matter anymore. Keep smiling whyile moving ahead each day and be kind to ourselves.
Being honest & sincere will make friendships last. Do not expect a return on whatever you have given to others, after all, making others happy is life’s greatest achievement.
By Stephanie Chong (11)
Here’s another story by my prolific writer granddaughter Stephanie, who never at any time wastes in triviality. She’s always either reading or writing, when out shopping, or even at the dining table. She has since written many stories and has since read more than 50 books. Her creative imagination and writing skills are undoubtedly beyond her age.
“Can we rent some bodyboards?” Dad asked a man – who was as brown as dark chocolate in my opinion. He nodded and immediately jogged over to the back, rummaging through a pile of things that I did not know you could acquire from working at a beach all day.
“Is there one for her size as well?” Dad added, pointing at me. The point seemed a little unnecessary to me – I was the only female who looked like I would be close enough to him to bodyboard with him. Anyways, I doubted they made bodyboards specifically for children my size, but the man managed to produce a board that was surprisingly just my size. Feeling all over the baker-miller pink surface, I clutched my temporary bodyboard, a smile spreading over my face.
“Thank you,” I smiled politely at the man, who smiled back gently.
“You’re welcome!” he replied in voice obviously a few octaves higher than his usual voice. Then again, my height did imply that I was a younger age than what I actually was.
The man handed Dad the other three boards, and I hopped down the sandy wooden steps onto the powdery sand.
“Look, it’s high tide,” Dad commented as a giant wave lapped against the shore. Immediately, I raced towards the ocean that was the colour of a glittering aquamarine, water droplets splashing around me as I leapt about in the water. Strapping the bodyboard to my wrist, I jumped onto it and paddled deeper into the ocean, Daddy following suit.
“A big wave is coming!” I shouted and started paddling towards the shore. The bubbles soon engulfed me as I shot forwards in the water, kicking against it. Soon, I was on the sandy shore of the beach, giggling happily as I clambered to my feet.
Instantly, I grabbed my bodyboard and headed out in the sea again, bobbing about in the water as I waited for giant waves to come. However, after bodyboarding a few more times, I spotted Dad in the sea, searching for something frantically.
Absentmindedly ambling towards him, I wondered if he had gone mad, looking for something in the sea. It was impossible that he would ever find it again. I knew that from experience – when I had gone to the beach a different time for a holiday, I had stupidly tied my hair in a loose braid before stepping into the sea, and the result was one less hair tie in my possession.
Impossible, I berated myself in a mocking tone as Dad loomed closer and closer. You should remember nothing is impossible with God.
“What is it Daddy?” I asked him as a small swell caused me to bob up a bit, my head staying above the water despite the fact that my feet barely brushed the ground.
“Have you seen my phone?” he asked as I floated back down and my feet reached the sandy ocean floor again.
I shook my head, a blanket of fear descending upon me. A phone would be absolutely impossible to find without God’s help – even if someone else found it, they might not give it back. People are so selfish these days.
I dragged my bodyboard to the shore with Mom and started walking carefully along the sand, hoping desperately to find his Note 8. Shells pricked our bare feet, but still we persisted, though I made a mental note to wear my crocs next time something like this unfortunately happened.
Daniel sprinted across the shore and waded in the left side of the ocean, sharing some geography facts that would aid us in finding the phone.
After around 20 minutes, Mom and I bumped into Dad as we searched the shore.
“I’ve been stupid.” He shook sand from his black slippers before slipping them back on. I didn’t understand what he was talking about – obviously he had the sense that Mom and I didn’t have to put on shoes before searching the shell-covered shore.
“What do you think the chance of us finding my phone is?”
“0.42,” I promptly answered my dad, recalling what Brainy had said about Winn in my favourite DC series, “Supergirl”.
“And what about with the help of God?”
Oh, now I understood.
Dad went to call Daniel back from the sea and they returned, racing back with news. Apparently Daniel had asked a stranger with a snorkel to help us search, but he didn’t seem to care and went on lying lazily on a donut floatie.
Well, at least it was something.
We formed a circle and bowed our heads, and for a while, we were silent. Just when I was going to ask when we were going to pray, Dad spoke.
“Heavenly Father God, please help us find my phone. I have been foolish to bring my Note 8 into the sea, but please help us. I have learned my lesson. In Jesus name, Amen.”
“Amen,” three more voices chimed in.
Dad brushed his hands together. “Well, let’s let Father God work his miracle.”
Returning to the inviting cool water, Dad, Daniel and I swam way out to the furthest part of the ocean that we were allowed to swim in. When we reached it, I was surprised to find other people in a place I thought no one would think to go. On our left, I spotted a small western posse consisting of a little girl and what seemed to be her father (though his hair was a rather bright shade of white) who weren’t holding onto anything floating, and seeing the blonde-haired girl paddle around made me feel embarrassed that I was holding onto my baker miller pink bodyboard. Then I realised that westerns were much taller than people from Hong Kong – myself being a prime example – and assumed that the father/grandfather was probably tall enough to reach the ocean floor from so far out.
“Beep, beep!” A lifeguard boat trundled in the water, the man hard at work paddling the oars through the water, as he told us to move left. Dad turned to us and suggested that we returned to Mom, who was probably feeling a little bored at the moment, so we turned and started paddling.
On the way, Dad picked up random bits and bobs from the littered ocean floor, announcing that he wanted to help those poor turtles, even if just a little, for the sake of our own pet turtle Shelly Shell (otherwise known as Miss Shell). The pile of random widgets kept growing, until Dad’s sickening yellow-green bodyboard could hardly hold both his weight and all the stuff he had collected.
“Daddy, I think by the time we reach the shore Ariel’s secret stash of gadgets and gizmos will really get a lot barer,” I giggled, observing all those things.
Sometimes people just can’t learn.
When we reached the shore (we had returned a lot sooner, since a huge wave had very kindly pushed us all the way back on the beach), Mom raced out to us, shouting whether we had seen the keys for the lockers we had rented. When we shook our heads, Mommy sighed and frowned at the water.
“First the phone, now the keys,” I grumbled to myself as I kicked the water.
“Fish pee in you all day!” I quoted Moana as I stomped about. The ocean didn’t seem to care, or seperate like in the movie I loved so much. I suppose it got used to the phrase after the big hit that is Moana got released.
Maybe I am a teensy bit of a Disney fan.
After searching for only a while (a lot shorter than we had for the phone, since apparently that flat piece of electronic that would be easily replaceable was more important than our belongings), we concluded that the best solution would be to, very embarrassedly, confess to the lifeguard that we had lost the keys.
This could either go down really bad, or really really bad. Neither of them were really wanted.
When we trudged our way the office, the lifeguard lifted his shades and squinted at us. Perhaps he needed glasses.
“Note 8?” he asked in not very good English, because, after all, this was Hong Kong.
The lifeguard strode into a room, and when he came out, he produced a Note 8 that looked eerily similar to Dad’s. He stared at Dad as if waiting for him to do something.
“Yours?” he asked again.
Dad gingerly took the phone from the lifeguard’s hands – which would be considered a rude action if not for the tension so thick that you could slice it with a knife. Slowly, he turned on the Note 8, and the screen became bright before morphing into the same background as Dad’s phone.
“This is a promising start,” Mom noted calmly.
On the other hand, I cried out, prancing about like a madwoman. “It works, Daddy, it works!”
Mom quickly took out her own white IPhone and dialed Dad’s number to prove that it was really his phone, and to our delight, the phone really was! Thank goodness – how was I going to Clash Royale with him without that phone?
“Thank you God, thank you! We couldn’t have done it without you, Lord,” we thanked, and rushed off to tell Daniel, who was still bodyboarding, probably leaving the non-Christian lifeguard very puzzled.
For a long time afterwards, this event was the subject of our conversations most of the time. Daddy kept pointing out how amazing God’s grace was and I kept celebrating with ice creams. Even after months, this event was my excuse to enjoy ice cream, and as I told Dad, you could never have enough ice cream. Thank you Father God for letting me experience your grace and have lots of ice creams celebrating the occasion!
By Paul Chong
A Chinese by Descent
An Australian by Consent
Saturday, 28 July 2018
William Shakespeare was a great sonnet writer. A sonnet is a poem in a specific form which originated in Italy; Giacomo da Lentini is credited with its invention. The term sonnet is derived from the Italian word sonetto.
There are many types of sonnets. Traditionally, the sonnet is a fourteen-line poem written in iambic pentameter, which employ one of several rhyme schemes and adhere to a tightly structured thematic organization.
Today, talking about songwriting, we probably think more of the likes as McCartney, Sir Paul, John Lennon, Sir Elton John, ABBA, the Carpenters Bee Gees & a host of others.
It is said that:
▪ If a song genuinely expresses your feelings, then it’s a good song. It doesn’t matter what anyone else thinks.
▪ If a song expresses your feelings AND touches other people, moves them emotionally, or gets them on the dance floor – that’s a good song with the potential to become a HIT.
To me, songwriting is essentially a touch of inspiration, devoid of musical knowledge or training. It’s an inspiration that consumes your whole being & within minutes a song is born to be sung & enjoyed by all. A song could stir your imagination, make your heart to take flight, make you joyous or sad – & that would be a good song.
I am no songwriter, though I do write quite a bit of poems. Here is below one song I attribute mainly to God’s inspiration: “Without Thee”
“I am the vine; you are the branches. If as man remains in me& I in him, he will bear much fruit; party from me you can do nothing.” – John 15:5
The lyrics . . .
What will we ever be without Thee
We are all but empty vessels indeed
Without Thee there can’t be any destiny
Only with Thy Sipirit will our bondage be free.
Glory, glory, glorious GodOnly with Thy love
Only with Thy grace
Will we know our fate.
Without Thee nothing will be possible
Nor fruit, nor life, nor spirit of survival
For Thou art the the vine weer’re just the branches
Only with Thy Spirit we’ll be free from the crunches.
Copyright 1992. All rights reserved.
By Paul Chong
25 July 2018
passion, understand. . . to understand the passion behind this poetic expression, readers need to turn back to read my previous writing entitled “ Kirkby College Memorabilia “ ( Permalink: https://paulchong.net/2009/08/24/kirkby-college-memorabilia/ )
Today here I sit at age 58, no older nor younger
Though as fit & strong as ever
I lack the energy to run for fun
For all the love & fun in the sun.
With all the years gone by
It seems like yesterday I first set eyes
That pretty sweet thing dear to me
That I’ll always cherish for all eternity.
Today I’m refreshed & rejuvenated
With the same passion activated
Content as I am to get your devoted attention
Never ever to forget yesterday’s love & passion.