Through a small opening in a coat
Glinted a shard of iridescent blue.
The Tourist pulled it closer, clearing her throat,
To shield from the cold wind that blew
Sounding a low, ominous whistle
The old gentleman lifted the glass of champagne in his hand
Carrying with it the honour of being the best man,
“To the lovely couple, I would like to raise a toast
There was once a man, quite old was he,
He spent his day under a Banyan tree.
Men would come, and men would go
Up to twilight, from the cock’s crow.