my soul is in Fort Canning
long before the march of progress
incendiary sounds and shouted orders
there are some places you never leave
still others where memories live
amongst the quiet and verdant green
you can feel me in the dank surrounds of battlements
the stillness before the tropical rains
a rhythm of droplets on spreading fronds
in truth I have never left you
the forbidden hill of legend
where empires lost were never reclaimed
and royalty wept at your feet
my soul is in Fort Canning
a quiet meditation still
of universal peace.
Roger Smith. 2011
