An Ode Poem to Present Past Times . As the Mind is following its free creating Spirit. Paper is patient, people are not. About Molenwijk, about a cutting artist, a Tale apart....


I feed you with love,
I nourish you with my smile,

my countless patience, my sunshine, my passion,
I nurture you with all things
what can do to you to bloom.

I have brought you my deepest secrets
and feed you with my own blood.

Only you can make me
as I am today.

Thousands of people,
all kinds of interests,

I came and I go back,
nothing I have noticed.

You came from the darkness,
I saw, I discovered
and I made you my own.

I'm your patient owner,
I hold you in my selfless love,
believe me, my past time hero,
our friendship will last
until many degrees below zero.

A sunlit remoted Molenwijk,
amidst of Indian Summer Autumn
Haarlem, a tale apart
precarious people look at you
like you're a piece of living art.

Is it so funny that
a workaholic, an overly prolific
a cutting artist who creates,
when his heart is on maximum optimum?

Molenwijk is very crowded now
and the beautiful sun rays make me sad,
give me feelings of deep tensions,
discomfort, brand new nostalgia
and latest fashioned depressions.


© Sylvia Frances Chan