Walking past the leaves of Autumn;
love you hold for me in colors
on veins that spread on nature's arms--
they meld in piles, in heaps, in pounds.
Pound for pound in late December,
seethe in pain as I remember
wild dissenters, timed preventers.
But I still love you so tender.
Now, Spring, spring forth on May the 4th.
Come about in a march of storms.
Test our love, no lie in April.
Strengthen us when June's fulfilled.
It's summer--oh, summer!--the time of embers.
Not love or tiresome desires but the loss of both.
A duet of lovers with no voices, no symphony;
can't compliment each soul, so go and be free.
I hope for the fall to lead to winter
and winter lead to spring and its blossoms.
Avoid her summer as long as I see her,
but in Maharlika, only summer taunts upon my bosom.
BINABASA MO ANG
Mahal-lika!
PoetryIs love just a a collection of feelings for one? Is it just a sweet section of chocolate for one? Hearken! My heart beats faster, the box shakes stronger -- Mahal-lika! Let us tell their stories of love divine, their love full of sin!
