I want to go back to the time
where cell phones existed not,
and communication was more personal.

Where TV was radio
and eyes with mind collaborated for imagination
as ears reveled in sound.

I want to go back to a time
where people would be on street holding hands instead of phones. And individuals looked at one another to see each others expressions instead of impersonal texting.

I want to go back
where there was no internet to steal ones time on a Face Book site that takes your information and tries to promote fake friendships.

I want to go back yes back
to a time where I could meet a poet for lunch
instead of only on a site that keeps one at distance.

Time waits for no one and so progress
for the sake of disconnect continues.

Until robots replace our reality.

There's a snow shovel
On my porch
Under a light
As bright as a torch
A place for gathering falling stars
Unfortunately snow
Is all we are
Frozen here for just one kiss
Waiting to melt
In eternal bliss
Yes it's winter
My heart is blue
I need summer
Just like you!

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

I am a foreign body, floating on the moon's surface,
suit-protected.....winds are blowing without cease.
high and low i go, over its dark craters
strange, not seeing fog or mist in the atmosphere.

the cold quiet leaves me in awe
soundless, as the moon that glows
'pon which i raise my eyes to,  from below
i sense a mix of joy and fear....i don't know

this boundless heaven has me conquered
the moon, and its silence......so open-ended
...if it's possible....i have often wondered
who knows, somebody must've dared, or tried,
i believe those wise words most often uttered:
...no man is an island...

from the moon's surface, i could picture
bright events to come in a few days...i'm sure
fires of red, blue and green would soon be bursting
to light the world...when the new year comes marching

there's this longing...to go home, to my earth  
where God meant me to be, the planet of my birth
to celebrate life...the present, the future, even the past
....to show, to speak my  gratitude......no matter what...

Sally
© Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
December 29, 2018

(a work of fiction)

I bury this year's stillborn dreams
in the soil of despair, before the
new year begins with colorful
explosions embroidered in the sky.