I wanted to climb the hill
and enjoy the sight of my little city
and the mountain that bears witness
to the growth and tribulation of
our proud people
the railways which used to bring
both young and old to the big city
remain rusty and idle
how proudly it snaked away like
steel serpent. Bearing fortunes
and misfortune to our little city
young people who made it great
and returned with laurel
while the fallen warriors
were borne on body bags
inside a casket
I saw the old schools which have
Transformed farm kids into men
Of all climes and seasons
Young women who went abroad
To save their families from starvation
Enduring loneliness and sacrificing
Their purity against bearded wolves
And jackals
My little struggling city
Yearns for old days
When its young were pure and simple,
undefiled by strange
culture and ways which forever
erased the simple innocence
of Maria Clara.
The girls returned with dyed hair,
Tattooed body and masked faces,
Their ways were vulgar
Now I pine for good old days.
As I gazed across the horizon, a soft
Hand touched my shoulder
Let's move on, she said
And we went down with
Hands holding each other tight.
YOU ARE READING
SM OROBIA
FantasySlowly the sun kisses you before it hides in your bosom but with you beside me I have become your sun lover while our love glows in the dark