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Oh! Freedom, Where Art Thou

By: Phil Foo

It’s getting close to two years,

Where freedom lost its might.

The life wrecking corona virus,

Has locked us all inside.


Our fishing rods are shining,

Our reels, smoother than silk,

These days we do more cleaning,

While sipping tea with milk.


I sit back and reminisce the days,

How I wish I’m on a boat right now,

On water reflecting sunny rays,

Oh! Freedom where art thou.


I hear the oceans calling,

I feel its salty breeze.

I then hear my reel screaming,

I grabbed my rod with ease.


My reel screams even louder,

My rod bends to a “U.”

The pressure’s getting greater,

What fish? I haven’t got a clue.


It leaps out of the water,

It slaps me with its tail.

I retrieve even faster,

Because slack lines often fail.


I feel it getting weaker,

I feel it slowing down.

The fish is coming closer,

I feel the victor’s crown.


But then it started moving again,

This time faster than a speeding train.

My reel screams as if in pain.

This fish is seriously insane.


Suddenly something rather weird happens.

The sky splits and I can see the heavens.

Is that the sound of bells ringing?

It was my alarm; I was only dreaming.


As we await the day of freedom,

Let’s stay safe and play by the system.

Be patient; as we are on track.

Before long we’ll get our freedom back.


The day will come when the flood gates open

We’ll just wait for that to happen.

No one knows when and no one knows how.

Oh! Freedom where art thou.


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