Whenever the world you want to wend becomes wet and cold,
When things you wanted to happen didn’t go as told,
Whenever you feel like the world brings you down to your feet,
Whenever you feel lonely, when your heart seems not to beat,
When everything falls apart, and you’re left in despair,
Whenever you feel like crying and there’s no shoulder near,
Whenever your life becomes rough, and living becomes hard,
When you have destroyed those walls and you have let down your guard,
There is a place where you could always turn to when in need,
There are people who’ll always be there for you, bloom or bleed,
That’s why, whatever you may want, wherever you may be,
Whenever you may want, whoever you may see,
Come home.

I hope she notices when I give her a stare,
How I smile when she passes and I smell her hair
I wish this woman sees how bright my eyes glitter
How shaky are my knees when I hear her titter

I hope she can see me, when she visits my dreams
how I jump with great glee, when to me she beams
how I cry in despair, whenever I miss her
because it’s just unfair, that she is nowhere near

I hope she notices how happy I become
how my heart skips paces, how it beats like a drum
how my mind goes stupid, how my insides shiver
how my sighs grow rapid, how I naively dither

I hope she notices whenever I tell her
how pretty she prances, how lovely is her hair
I hope she believes me when I finally declare
How deeply and madly in love I am to her

I will cook you breakfast no matter what time you wake up
Comfort you when you’re sad and give you coffee in a cup
I will tuck you into sleep, maybe sing some lullaby
Make sure you are okay before I even say good bye

I will write you poems every single day of my entire life
Will kneel down in front of you, and ask you to be my wife
I will sing you songs and melodies you have never heard
For you, I will even grow a gray Dumbledore-ish beard

I will read the books you read, will watch the movies you watch
Will throw the things you want to throw, and catch the things you catch
I will love dogs, even if they scare the crap out of me
Take them to walks and maybe take one home with me

I will tell you you are beautiful every single day
Even if you don’t believe me, I’ll say it anyway.
I will tell you you are beautiful every single day
I will say it twice, but its meaning would not fade away.

I will hold your hand every time we take walks together
I will phone you every single time we are asunder
Will tie the laces of your shoe for every single run
because I will love you forever, you’re second to none

And when we both grow old, our hair grey, our eyes blurred, our teeth sans,
When we can no longer run, walk, stand, sing nor even dance
I will still love you like how I did the day we first met
And I will still love you, even if the world, I shall forget

You look up the sky, sun kissing your cheeks
I look at the stars, moon enthralling me
you endear the beach, the breeze and the sea
I love the rivers, the hills, and the creeks

You’re a child of the north; composed and cold
I’m borne of the south; humid, green and warm
you’re rich with beauty, with grace and with charm
I’m full of wit, I’m as wise as the old

We stand on the opposite sides of the pole
looking at different colors of the sky
waiting for different nights to come by
Reading on opposite sides of a scroll

I look at the sky, sun kissing my cheeks
You look at the stars, moon enthralling you
I look at the stars, moon enthralling you
You look at the sky, sun kissing your cheeks

The moment I knew I am in love with you,
I texted you at seven in the morning,
told you that I was dreaming
and you were in it.

You said that’s impossible!
And I told you the story
of how I traveled long and far, sea by sea,
only to give you a small piece of gift.

I also told you how beautiful you were
even in my weirdest dreams;
that your hair looked dazzling,
that your eyes were glistening.

You told me, “That’s not true!”
But I said it anyway, “You are beautiful.”
and I said it over and over again
and I will continually do, until I could, “You are beautiful.”

The moment I knew I am in love with you,
I pinched myself.
Just to make sure I’m no longer dreaming;
and just to make sure of the truth behind this feeling.

Because the moment I knew I am in love with you,
I also knew that from this moment on
you will be the melody behind every song,
the right behind every wrong.

The blue rose that attracts all
these cute butterflies in my stomach,
The beat behind this pounding drum in my chest,
The better to my every best.

The moment I knew I am in love with you,
I told you “You are beautiful” and meant it.
But I silently whispered
“I love you.”

There was an old man who stood at the playground
staring blankly in the air.
He stood there for god-knows-what reason
and I thought he’ll be willing to share.

I approached the old man quietly,
like a hunter targeting a very sensitive gazelle,
counting all my steps, making sure not to scare him away.

He looked behind and saw me,
tip-toeing my way to him.
He look puzzled but he smiled saying,
“What do you want from me?”

I felt scared at first, looking at his face
crumpled like paper, full of freckles, heck, he had no hair.
His face had this long creepy-looking scar
like he was axed or something I saw from a horror movie!

But he had a smile that was trusting;
a voice that was comforting;
a presence that was tempting.
Tempting to ask his story and understand his life.

He asked me again, “what do you want, kid?”
But this time, I mustered up all my courage
Looked up at him, and opened my mouth,
“I was wondering, what are you staring at?”

And then he told me a story I may have heard a few times;
A story which was very familiar,
very cliché
yet, the way he told it was something I could never forget.

He told me about a friend he had when he was a kid.
They met in the same playground,
ran in the same pile of sand,
played in the same slide,
swung on the same swing,
hung in the same monkey bars,
and balanced in the same see-saw.

He told me how they grew up,
how they were both poor yet happy,
how they had to work during summer to earn money,
how they painted Aunt Molly’s fence.

And he told me how the both fell in love
with the most beautiful women that caught their hearts.
How they both wooed them,
writing the same poems as I am writing;
singing the same songs I am singing and;
saying the same words I am saying.

And he told me how they both got drafted to war.
How they got into the same platoon,
fired the same guns,
yelled the same song,
killed the same enemies
and stood for so long.

And he told me how his friend was killed.
Stepped into a landmine while raiding an enemy camp.
He yelled at his comrades, telling he’ll die soon
and they all have to leave or else
they too shall be no boon.

He told me how he wanted to save his friend,
how he tried to salvage his dead body;
enduring all the missed bullets;
beating the fire;
outlasting the wound that has already been bugging him.

But he failed.
He failed to rescue the only friend he made.
And now all he does is think about him.
About how they both got to war;
about how they both got married;
wooed the women they loved;
painted the same fence;
went to the same school;
played on the same playground;
balanced on the same see-saw.

The old man and the see saw remained there for a long time
with all kids meeting their best friends;
with all kids learning that you can never enjoy a see-saw alone,
and you can never balance life without a friend.

The old man and the see-saw remained at the playground for a long time.
The old man stared at the see-saw.
How it refused to move up or down
because the other side has left and gone.

The cricket sang a sad song tonight.
I never understood what he was saying.
All I heard was mere chirping
but I knew it sang a sad song.

The night was cold
and an old man was sleeping in the couch.
The TV was left on, leftover food was on the table
and the old man was snoring.

On the other room,
An old woman was sleeping on her bed.
Her eyes were now dry with tears she just shed,
the lamp left on, her eyeglasses on the side table
and the old woman was sound asleep.

The cricket sang  a sad song tonight.
I never understood what he was saying.
All I heard was mere chirping
but I knew it sang a sad song.

The night was warm.
A middle aged man who had a beard was looking at his things,
trying to figure out what should go to the bin.
Old photos stacked on his lap, a few movie tickets he held,
an old rusty ring
and memories of the past that he wanted to bring back.

The night was warm.
A middle aged woman who had long wavy hair sat outside her house,
stars under her, the moon shining bright.
The woman was under the light yet she felt otherwise

The cricket sang a sad song tonight.
I never understood what he was saying.
All I heard was mere chirping
but I knew it sang a sad song.

Because somewhere, where the cricket sings,
hearts are broken and left untended.
Because somewhere, where the cricket sings,
people leave people, nothing being said

Up and down, left and right, salt and pepper
black and white, twist and shout, pen and paper
North and south, pork and beans, chips and dip
*** and coke, q and u, paper and clip

Bacon and eggs, back and forth, biscuits and teas
Remote and TV, a pod with two peas
Yin and Yang, hand and glove, bread and butter,
hand and foot, mac and cheese, land and water

Abott and Costello, Tom and Jerry
Ron and Hermione, Harry and Ginny
Mutt and Jeff, Jack and Jill, Holmes and Watson
Jobs and Wozniak, Delilah and Samson

Tom and Huck, J and K, Tarzan and Jane
Frodo and Sam, Clark Kent and Lois Lane
Batman and Robin, Romeo and Juliet
Hansel and Gretel, Browning and Barret

There are many things that go together
But nothing will ever be as clever
Nothing will ever be as perfect, too
than my favorite pair called me and you.

The MVP took a day off.
There was no game today.
No practice, no training, no press conferences.
He lazed on his soft king-sized bed
trying to set his mind straight.
Exactly twenty four hours and eighteen minutes ago,
he was in the arena.
Sweating his *** off, running, jumping, scrambling for the ball.

It was the finals, game 7.
Fans filed up in their lines, cheering for the MVP.
Fourth quarter, with only three seconds to go.
The opposing team has possession
His team leading by one.
Ball was inbounded
Caught by his man.
A shot was fired
He jumped
He was too late.
Bucket.
Buzzer.
Fans cried out of disappointment.
The opponent celebrated pouring champagne,
confetti flying around the arena.
His teammates heading to the locker room.
He lied face down, tears gushing from his eyes.
And in that span of a fleeting moment,
his life flashed before his eyes:
His dying father calling his name;
the love of his life that got away;
his only shot at winning the gold.
All those times, he was a moment short.
Short of hearing his father’s voice.
Short of being with his true love.
Short of winning a title.
All that is too late now
because the moment has passed.