We worked hard for these plans for so long
these dreams, we feel, could never go wrong
we have given them our all...they are nearly done,
but, "nearly" doesn't mean it's been won
deep inside, we keep alive their essence
and we choose to stretch our patience...
We wait...
Notes have yet to be written on the bars
the tunes seem to be playing among the stars
lyrics are springing back and forth
"pen-rubber-pen," is a cycle that can't be fought
they are songs taking too long to be sung
in the air, they fly, like arrows being slung
in spaces too far flung...
We sit on the edge, while waiting...
They are verses that falter
have yet to make it on white paper
altered thoughts, words displaced
lines, here and there...disorganized
hanging...
with unknown endings
work is pending
we desperately seek for the missing element
to come up with meaty, meaningful contents...
We console ourselves, and say, "maybe later..."
They are faces that hide
there, at the back of our minds
smiling at us in our darkest hours
they make us cry, laugh, turn our moods so dour
keeping us company twenty-four/seven,
we fervently wish, the odds would become even
yes...we long for their physical presence
but....it can't...it just doesn't...happen!
they keep stalling
courage could be waning...
It is hard to comprehend why...we're still willing to wait.
When most days of life have passed
and while waiting, we breathe our last,
our songs, our meandering loves, our dreams,
our long written poems with scattered themes,
like shredded paper, shall go with the final heave of our chests
fly away, flee to the open spaces...to find rest,
and, after wandering all over...they would then settle down
to finally become the color of the ground.
One day, things would fit into their proper places,
people will wear smiles on their faces
nothing would seem to be wrong
the air would be filled with songs
from new lives, new loves...risen from the fall
from life's cycle....these unknowing souls
their palms, with lines and colors, much brighter
they could be luckier
they have better chances...they show more courage
the wind brings good fortune, they now have the edge...
How are they to know, their most desired aspirations
used to be other people's inspirations
in the past generations?
their dreams realized had once been,
Things that were not meant to be.
Sally
Copyright JUNE 2014
Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
***...fell again into the rhyming trap...oh, well...***