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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=423396" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Little Women</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">little women of my childhood gravel lane, <br>fill out a part of my memory of <br>linked-wooden houses built on stilts.<br>their crowning glories still so vivid; <br>how they flipped like a pendulum from <br>shoulder to shoulder as they ran; <br>those different-styled hair<br>each carving a story and character in <br>my own little women world; <br>straight, graceful tresses, <br>shoulder-length lioness-styled crown, <br>and their varied-toned skins; <br>fair, dark, palsy so many different shades<br>in one family, it's a wonder how genes work.<br>all these differences held tight by a love<br>that flowed so abundantly from shy mom and salt fish market businessman dad.<br>how they had run helter skelter<br>from their games of rope jumping, hide and seek, hopscotch, ....<br>for home when they saw daddy<br>strolling home with his straw basket round his elbow, the dollars and cents of the day to get the family runnning.<br>his subtle gentle smile that hid a world of love for the frightful children in his presence.<br>the children who all earned<br>much favours from their<br>keen attitude towards studies<br>and those paper bags they<br>so skillfully folded and<br>gummed for daddy's merchandise<br>as well as for friends<br>to earn those extra cents<br>to get tickets for the<br>next famous epics from<br>hong kong, taiwan.<br>brother fell in love with one fair one <br>in his upper secondary study.<br>a puppy love that soon turned sour.<br>my childhood lane's <br>only broken heart story.<br>my childhood lane<br>how every inch is still<br>still filled with<br>experiences sweet, sour, bitter, <br>a part of my life<br>that runs like a cartoon movie.<br>those childhood characters <br>I wonder whether <br>they could spare some time<br>with me to to walk down <br>those cement blocks and<br>tarred road<br>that have overtaken<br>the scenes but not the soul.<br>i wonder could that be their best days too?</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=John+Tiong+Chunghoo">John Tiong Chunghoo</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=423396" data-title="Little Women de John Tiong Chunghoo" data-description="little women of my childhood gravel lane, 
fill out a part of my memory of 
linked-wooden houses built on stilts.
their crowning glories still so vivid; 
how they flipped like a pendulum from 
shoulder to shoulder as they ran; 
those different-sty..."></div>
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