(fourteen lines)

Their faces and tiny fingers filled my cupped hands
but, they're all grown now...on their own, they strive to stand
and hold shape...further from my warm hands...
still, they're shielded from whatever is harmful out there
rain or shine, they're raised high, safe from  murky water
somehow, it seems, i can't contain them much longer
but...they don't have to know
carefully, quietly, i will have to let go
here...today... i open my palms wide
my fears, my reservations, i put aside
and  from my cupped hands, down...they glide
like toddlers, shrieking while they slide
spilling continuously...like sand
leaving me...with empty hands.

Sally


*****

Copyright June 2015
Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan

"Should we break up?"
(like the universe that, lying, we once worshipped
where I found the wooded field
/you foraged flowers.)

"Is it over?"
(like the night that you mistakenly uncovered and,
unknowingly, addressed my naked fears.)

"Please don't go yet."
(from the back of my old car, we learned to stretch the time and space
to make them ours.)

Should we break up,
(like morning does),
(unlike to lie in bliss, so-laughing)
I'd lose foresight
for my eyes, so full of tears.

How can you help yourself in this wide sea
When you are alone and you don't know how to swim?

©IGMS