* * *
* *
*

Faces of friends, of people i met earlier
are  glittering stars on this late evening's
dark blue sky...their smiles are tattooed
in my mind...they're  hunched, going
lower by the days...slowed down by years.
it must be hard and painful...the arching,
the drooping of the neck, the curving spine,
they endure all, 'til each day's end...they rise
each new dawn...do what they still can do,
lest they stagnate in their aging ponds,
diminish to a state, where food, pills, or
forgotten information are forced on them,
......like drugs, injected into the veins

........................
these wee hours bring back the years...
they  have been good...never mind the
hard times...there were, there are good ones
life is a long, wide stream of changing hues,
flowing on and on....my water bears the
colors each new day brings...gray, at times
with sadness and gloom....other days,
blacked by despair...some summers, red,
roseate with glee, or green with life and
hope...blue, when trust is spilling, and
the tranquil sea and sky overwhelm,
with a promise of stability..........white,
when accepting......the unacceptable...
........................
the amber grains and i, are alike
ripened enough to be plucked
be pulled out from an existence...the
signs are known...shown...yet, i wait
for when it is due to happen...and while
waiting, the stalks sway, play and dance  
and enjoy the sun and wind...and i,
while i still can...walk, jump, climb hills
and valleys in this mammoth space
of land and water.............called life
...................
the sounds of my days, i still hear,
i am a lute, a harp, a cello...playing
off-key.....out of tune at times,
my strings are my graying hair,
i still can't stop dying the gray
i still want to highlight the dark,
but, one day, all these will cease...
............
one night, my face will be in one of those
many stars...glittering on a dark blue sky
sending a smile, to my loved ones...
...................
there is no other way, but forward
all are headed....towards an end...


Sally



© Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
      June 26, 2018

.................
        .........    

Remembering,
how fast April, May and June ended,
gone.......yet, their breezes,
still whistle their songs into July
brazenly...heard by conscious, sharp ears,
by the bedroom door, i see how they
blow and push...how they move everything
...................
like these dancers on the window
moving with such grace,
always obsequious
to the call of the wind,
  ....................
soft silky bodies...dancing freely
moving with a gentle sway...flowing
flinging, waving up, down....in floral,
fruity and rustic prints....flimsy,
like summer scarves, in yellows,
reds, greens, blues, and browns
...................
baring......sometimes, hiding
a rich tapestry of an arcadian scene:
wide open areas of lush green
beside gold-colored fields,
eyes of passersby are stunned even more
by the long, wide, swaying leaves
of the proud  tobacco plants.
.....................
tireless hanging dancers, graceful and lithe,
organza curtains, pierced by rays of sunlight,
dancing with much fire, as wind becomes wild,
...but, shy at nights, when stilled by drawn blinds...
.........................

........Dancers........
....­.................
   ..............


      Sally

© Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
  July 1, 2018