A wind passed, and roused my lethargic mind
then, i noticed golden yellow leaves
starting to drop from the money tree.
as a young girl, i recall chasing leaves falling
careful not to let them touch the green grass.
i pondered on my own invented game...do i run?
to catch, or not to catch.....even one leaf
was a child's dilemma...that became mine,
for, a leaf falling, is a poem, starting...
a love...blooming....or, an elusive one
or one that's struggling...
after a fall, comes the rising...where
something should be bravely emerging,
this is the time, when tamed, unnamed feelings
suddenly, become verses, sliding from the tongue,
mind is active, hand is alive, pen hurriedly writes
the soon-to-be-born poem,
...the one hashtagged...chased...or sought.
a word, a name, a face forgotten, now remembered,
a love...that is fading, or falling out,
all these should be held, grabbed...captured!
before they truly escape from our grasp
or, be blown further away...by a cold, autumn wind
...and leave us drowning, in a stream of regret...
Copyright April 19, 2017
Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan