Leslie Mae Rivero
Charcoal days
Jose Marte A. Abueg
When I go to visit the clouds again
Jose Marte A. Abueg
When I go to visit the clouds again
I hope you won’t hide yourself like
last time.
Kissed you in a dream this morning
I said.
You took cover and said
that had better be
a poem.
The tropical depression is forecast
to cross over from the east
to where afternoons
often end.
Once when I watched the sun it colored me
and the sky while a little boy
drew a giant face
on the orange-tinged shore.
I didn’t know about cyan and magenta
cool turquoise courting young maize
but soon I was to know
burnt sienna like loam and gravity
green grew out of yellow and black
and rose from copper in a flame
akin to that realm where light and hours
went forward and back. It was a dream
I said. You said
nothing
no hint
of where the sun would go
these charcoal days.
The tints and dyes are here. After the rains
have washed all
in the flight and alchemy of another
late afternoon I shall draw your face
and color those clouds.
3 comments:
beautiful. the very thing called love paints the whole world with color.
lovely.. the colors we anticipate make us live all over again.
-- Wanda Madarang R16
I BS CTM
Nice. It is true how love can change ones whole viewpoint, and show one new and wonderful things. It's simple and yet achieves it purpose.
-Ceferino Luta III--R16
Love, unrequited as it may be, is still love. It has the power to change people and the way they look at the world. Its effect often leaves one yearning for more. - maura rosario a. gregorio
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