West Indian, a poem by Glynn Sinclare at Spillwords.com

West Indian

West Indian

written by: Glynn Sinclare



I hear your words.
I have been there
a fly on the wall
It is familiar
I read the music
in your words
The street names
the shops
The vibe
Steel band, pan.
the Abby on Sunday
I have seen them playing
Cricket, Cards,
drink to escape,
To block the sounds
Of The Caribbean Sea
the hot sun
Roti and curry duck
They chose to live
and work in
Days that flow
one into another
Wind and rain
The buss of London streets
Man, one day I am going home
But now I am old.

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