the old village

In the old village

The decades it was there

The bamboo trees clustered

On the orange road

It was called KampungTengah

The place of multi-races lived

Sharing the common public loos

The unkeep was intolerable

There was a tale

The old would share with the young

Those were the times

Of the ghost stories

At midnight the old would say

“If you are unlucky coming home

In the dark of the village

You will see a white apparition of a woman

She will stand near the bamboo trees

Eyes of red, white dress with a smile

She will wave at you to come to her

You better run; you don't look back!

Once you do

You will fall sick

The next day of the light

You better ask for help”

The years spent in the village

The young would learn to respect

The time of the darkness flow

Nothing would ever be the same