Hong Kong Young Writers Anthologies Poetry 2017 | Page 47

Rickshaw Streets
Kennedy School, Hashimoto, Mayuka - 9
From where I sit in this rickety rickshaw,
Everything is movement.
People of every age and class,
Strolling, rolling, to shops and parks.
Heads in rickshaws infront and back,
Gently bobbing, bob, bob, bob.
To me, its thrilling,
Each bamboo buggy,
It’s own adventure lies ahead.
My own two-wheeled, two-footed vehicle,
Galloping forward,
Excitement awaits.
To my side,
The sound of cheerful chatter and clinking teacups,
The sweat of steam gushing from the bamboo dim sum baskets.
But up ahead,
The heavy sigh of the sullen street sweeper,
The deafening call of the vegetable seller,
Along with the rhythm of footsteps,
Some pitter, some patter,
Some from the rickshaw runner,
Altogether, so bonded together,
All of a sudden, it comes to a halt.
This rickety rickshaw is home with a jolt.