by Daniel Reid
I love the glow of Asian nights,
Streets ablaze in neon lights;
The heat and noise of throbbing crowds,
The swirling sea of gaudy sights.
I love the smell of Asian nights,
Kitchen smoke and pungent spice;
The mingled must of sweet and sour,
The heady scent of sweat and flowers.
I love the sound of Asian nights,
Temple bells and cocktail ice;
Shouting touts and chanting monks,
The siren song of tender vice.
I often dream of Asian nights,
With all her charms and soft delights;
If I could have one wish today,
I’d be in Asia’s arms tonight.
May 6, 2003
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