☕️☕️☕️

Awake still, a few hours
before sunrise…and yet,
every morning, rising early
is a hard habit to break.

Dry thirsty mouth awaits
the morning’s initial cup
of steaming fulfillment.
caffeine's instantaneous effect
goes beyond waking hours,
working it’s way through the
day’s unfolding inspirations,
born from uncertainty, as
well as predictability, and
through deep concentration
and cups of hot refills.

One gets rapt in the hours of the
day…regardless if it’s a win or lose,
five-thirty…six pm approaches...
Mooned…or moonless, night comes,
to pause, or otherwise…our bodies,
our circumstances, the horizon speak:

‘Enough’ is a decision arrived at,
the dark sky leads to a new dawn,
to new journeys, once again, to be
enriched, inspired, and sustained by
countless cups of fresh coffee.

So, if it’s already four, or five am,
no more dilly-dallying..get up now,
have your first cup…take the first sip,
be driven………….be inspired.
☕️☕️☕️

sally b

©Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan

My sister bought it years ago,
too bad, my mother didn’t
get the chance to enjoy it,
she would've treasured it.

It became a reminder of sadness,
an unintended metaphor, for loss
and pain...it always brought back
that very unexpected, very sad
early morning in February.

Its bright red handle...faded
through weeks, months and
years of changing seasons,
stood on a corner for a long
time...unused, but still intact,
until i took notice one day,
brought it out of its dusty wrap
and opened the red cane umbrella.

A smiling face suddenly flashed
in mind...a presence who, on
early mornings, eagerly recited,
“I am the master of my fate:
  I am the captain of my soul,”
tirelessly sketched portraits of
unknown faces during unholy hours,
planted, cooked, sewed, while
humming "Ramona"...one who
taught us about silent vows and
undying promises that eventually,
became ours to keep.

It's now an accompanying cane,
the red umbrella...it saves me
from miscalculating steps, from
falling debris, when keeping walls
from crumbling.


sally b

©Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
September 29, 2022

A cold midnight wind blows.
underneath a moon glow,
silhouettes of leaves, sway
with an enchanting grace,
while “Sabor A Mi” plays.


sally b

© Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
September 21, 2022

It would be nice to face death
while being loved, not broken
:::::
while being held, not alone,
not sinking in a cold silence
:::::
while drowning in laughter
and not in tears,
:::::
while hair, though mostly gray,
still glows with love’s rays.
:::::
while dismissing the grieving
of those we shall be leaving
:::::
nothing could be braver,
it would be easier,
:::::
to accept, to welcome death
while in deep slumber's breath.
:::::
sally b

© Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
September 11, 2022