In one's life,
A Happy Place, which we often recall...must have existed
....t'was where we felt at peace...and contented
None can break the serenity
Of home...or church, or maybe a shady tree
...its proximity...offering safety,
....no worries, no fears that blur our eyes........
...like that easy morning...with blue animated skies
........the smell of rice, ready for reaping, filled the air
....it felt nice, to sit by the creek...wind, messing hair
..........while throwing stones, on the water flowing
.......having fun...watching people harvesting
One day, those rice fields
..............had no more rice to yield
....just wide open spaces left, where young boys
...surrendered to the winds, their artfully designed toys
...colorful, Japanese paper...smooth, with sheen
...framed by several bamboo sticks...long and thin
...big, colorful birds and butterflies, flying high
Naive, impermanent kites..... soaring to the skies
We can never be sure....some kites fly straight away,
............while a few others....stray
...fading songbirds, losing their way........broken dreams,
Heading....towards distant, forgotten realms
.......they're like words that couldn't rhyme
............like discordant tunes of a broken chime...
In our minds, that Happy Place with kites......resides
Sometimes, it stays behind, refusing light...it hides
......for some reasons, it goes further down...deep inside
Oftentimes, it inspires...and becomes our source of pride...
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Life, after all, is a potpourri of lengthy, and ephemeral strides,
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Proving further, black and white are two of life's many colors
Light, or dark shade shouldn't matter.....
Because, in many ways...our cups always runneth over.
:::::::::::::::
Sally
Copyright October 5, 2016
Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
...when endowed with a brief respite...think of that one happy place, a happy moment...imagine yourself, sitting by that old creek, of your childhood days... ........you don't have to be THERE, physically...
