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Friday, November 9, 2007

Pighati sa UP Sunken Garden


Green upon green
Grief upon grief
On my bed, On My bench
A face I cannot recall, Words that I've been waiting for
They are one and the same.

The tears on this breezy morning are not new
The salt stings, they blur scenes
Played in a mind that foolishly hopes
Images of waiting...waiting in vain.

I don't want this, I no longer need this.

The well of despair in my being
I will dilute
With the cold green tea in my hand

The spark of the forgotten feeling
I will douse with lines
From the pain-drenched journal in my other hand

I will let the scent of newly-cut grass
Soothe me, intoxicate me
Until the longing is no more.

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