Guest Poet: D. L. McFall


A bowl of green and grey and black,
     with mountains all around.
The lofty buildings heavenward stack,
     the air is full of sound.

A dazzling maze of streets and lanes,
     a web of alleys long,
The roads all bearing heroes' names,
     all avenues of song.

The streets do sing of long-gone times,
     all tunes of joy and pain,
The blaring horns of speeding cars
     are echoes of the same.

In darkest night the peddlers roam
     and seek to make a sale,
Their cry for us to buy their wares,
     a great, impoverished wail.

The stately trees that line the streets,
     and spread their lofty boughs,
Have shaded many creatures' heads,
     from kings to peasants' cows.

The aged buildings here abound,
     French villas with an asian flare,
Colonial lords and ancient kings
     do these long avenues share.  

When the burning midday comes,
     then all the city rests, 
From the portliest of businessmen,
     to the smallest household pests.

Throughout the day the tools are heard,
     construction hourly swells. 
A tale of economic growth
     this hectic medley tells.

The food with which the people live
     is perhaps the world's best, 
With all the charms of local spice
     and tantalizing zest.

If once you stroll down a busy street,
     amidst the hour of lunch,
It will not be hard to find some food
     that will be good to munch.

The people, too, in most respects,
     are jovial company,
Their happy airs and sensible ways
     will not be hard to see.

Mr. McFall is currently a resident of Hanoi, Vietnam.  He is a multi-talented student and all-around good guy.  I’m not saying that just because he is my nephew, either.  LOL! 

All the roads of Hanoi are beautiful, but the road to your home is the best. — Anonymous

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