Trees barely moving from the hot and sultry whisper of the wind;
Smoke and dust everywhere, embracing sweat dripping like faucets broken;
The air smells of summer's impending wrath;
The burning of cold, lonely, aching hearts,
The breaking of gloom, the onset of happy days under trees wallowing, basking in the heat;
The wind barely sways the curtains on the window, the coffee stained notebook on the makeshift desk;
Only jazz excites under the mid-day sun, dancing, swaying with the heat; entering into dark crevices, flying mightily onto the 'clear' blue skies;
Alas! Jazz, screams for Manila's sweltering sun!