It’s Ramadan and I’m fasting

On the streets of Aylesbury

My hunger sighs out like a violin

My thirst desires the sea

I aim to focus my heart on God

And give my hunger a lesson

I aim to follow the scripture’s truth

And feel how drink is a blessing

But I traverse along Buckingham street

And, oh dear, what do I smell!

Sizzling pizza from Papa Johns

And Prezzo’s garlic bread

I rush on past but not before

The scent of chicken korma,

Emanates from The Golden Bengal

And shish from the Turks on the corner

I avoid the rush of the Pizza Express

But I’m held by the Doner and Gyros

I cannot Simply Thai my senses

And Salim’s doesn’t help my woes

I seek comfort along New street

But over there I nearly give in

Jade House whispers Chinese delights

And Herbies Special is thin

If I keep on proceeding

There’s no mercy on Cambridge street

Southern Fried and Tasty Bites

And Mediterranean treats

But then I’m arrested by a wondrous sight

A sycamore in flamingo pink

Above the wistful and luscious sky

Azure like an Arctic ink

The thirst and hunger dissipate

In the wide, expansive blue

The street goes by like a rolling film

While I sense a presence so true

The enigmas of Ramadan

Begin to reveal their faces

God said Fasting is just for me

Hunger reveals hidden traces

But my reverie is caught off-guard

By an all-encompassing wind

Then I find myself with a menu

In the heart of the Peking Inn!

Poet’s Note: Appreciation and kudos to all the Aylesbury restaurants and take-aways mentioned in the poem!