My dear, you know one plus one equals two.
it's Universal law.

No, it's three - as  I say so.

Please.
One plus one equals two.
See, here's a book.

Who needs to look?  
For I am that book.

Surely I can explain that one and one is two.
Then you will know.

Universal laws aren't for me.
When I know, I know.
One and one is three.
It's as simple as one, two, and three.

Oh, my dear, you see - it's truly two.

Look, I said three.
No logic or law for me,
No tome for me,
For I am the judge of  what suits me.

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\ // (\ /  /------|   |------\ ) // \ / /( // \////
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On hot days, out on errands...dealing
with a quicksand situation...maybe a
quicksand of not so useful thoughts,
i close my eyes, to find a calm moment,
in a sea of honking cars and blabbering
voices....to stop a pounding headache,
.........to find some silence....but,
.................................................­...

"How does one find silence, anyway?"
.....................................................

D­eep among tiresome thoughts,
i take flight......a short bridge,
an ascending road,
with rows of quaint coffee shops,
small diners that serve hot, fresh
and delicious home-made meals.

Walk farther on...turn right, to  
a guarded entrance...towards a
hilly, sloping walk...tough, painful
to the thighs and legs...headed to
a humble  abode...a small white  
house...a white gate with white fence.

The dogs are such noisy welcomers,
five ladies, all accurate storytellers;
i gladly listen to both...then, sit by
the small graveled space, with potted
philodendrons, succulents, and crotons,
lush from the daily rain showers...always
the best place to detox, to heal, all ways.

Being there at a graveled refuge, sipping
some sunset cuppa coffee, while gazing at
a copper-hued horizon, kind of unleash
a silence, so peaceful, it is where hot
summer winds...turn to cool breezes.

Amidst cacophony, silence is found
when flooded with notions of home,
.........../\ as if i were there /...........


sally b

© Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
April 9, 2025

I wore his vest,
trading stained threads
for something that smelled
just like him.

Bare legs, quiet room—
his eyes found mine,
and I swear,
time leaned in to listen.

"Just forehead kisses,"
I whispered once,
twice—
trying to stay soft
when my heart wasn’t.

But he looked at me
like I was still his,
like the ache between us
wasn’t ready to end.

His hands at my waist,
his breath on my cheek,
the silence hummed,
sweet and weak—

And then,
before goodbye could speak…
I kissed him—
once,
long,
slow,
like we forgot what leaving meant.

We met in coincidences—
Once in angst staring at the moon
Twice in silence glaring at the sun
Thrice under colored skies pretending not to watch.

Each time,
the universe held its breath.
Each time,
we let go too soon.

There were years between our names.
Other hands. Other homes.
Hearts that tried to forget
what never really left.

But I’ve learned—
what isn’t meant for you
will fight to leave.
And what is
will find its way back,
no map,
no warning,
just a pull.

So even if we part again,
even if time forgets our faces—
I’ll know:

'You are the return.
You are the thing that stays.'
Indefinitely


Erennwrites