There once was a beautiful lady,
Subtle and quiet, whom often hid treasures.
Her rivers glistened, and her forests were shady,
Those who loved her took great measures.
Skies a vibrant blue, clouds messily splattered,
Evening sun radiating, silent tremor of the coast’s sand.
The gracious people, the diverse cuisine that mattered,
All of this completed the lady of my land.
Her eyes were the shade of the earthy paves,
Her tresses the colour of the rocky shore.
Her heart synced with the rhythm of the crashing waves,
And her voice was a lion’s roar.
The Portuguese, The Dutch, The British.
Historical pasts and trading,
Made her quest for riches not a wish-
But a reality that is now fading.
Fading red churches, clock towers and forts.
Bustling streets, with a hint of mixed scents,
She wanders around town, the coasts and ports.
After all that pain, what a turn of events...
She adorns a silken cloth around her head,
Which is often frowned upon by modern society.
She doesn't acknowledge the atmospheric dread,
Which is often the cause of many’s anxiety.
Now the lady of my land,
Isn't who she used to be-
Daring. Arrogant. Selfish. Full of demand.
Her reign brings despair; she is not sorry.
As time gradually fades,
We keep hoping she realises.
She is a waterfall that cascades-
But she isn't one for surprises.
She’s still ‘as pretty as a picture’,
However, she has lost her touch.
Her sister, always manages a stricture.
And thinks she has the world in her clutch.
But the lady of my heart,
Will forever be in my favour.
She has done her job, played her part.
Not a lady, but a saviour.