The location...
An unassuming town,
Where Dad grew up in,
Take a walk around,
And I'll surely bump into kin.
The kopitiam...
At a corner it stands,
A little dark, somewhat dreary,
But it meets the demands,
Of the hungry and the weary.
The order...
“Cham Ping, please!”
My voice is loud and clear,
In fluent Cantonese,
So that the old man could hear.
The “Cham”...
Frothy and icy,
Golden highlights in brown,
Smooth tea and coffee,
Blended perfection in which I willingly drown.
And now....
The son is now the master,
The old man not to be seen,
With a heart beating much faster,
I wait, far from serene.
The Lament...
Alas! Alas! “Cham” it was not
But coffee in bad disguise,
No more to be tasted, no more begot,
The golden hue that filled my eyes.
No more to be savoured
In relish and in glee,
The drink that I favoured,
Oh woe is to me...
Alas! Alas!
Footnote : Since my Dad's hometown fix is not available anymore, please...please let me know if you know of some kopitiam with fantastic "Cham" on offer. An appeal from the heart...
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