To My Wife.*







i remember you
walking by my circle
thoroughly immersed in conversation

your hair done up in a bun
your eyes far off
as you spoke into your phone.

your eyes took me
as they take me away today
remembering how, as you walked up the steps

you glanced at me
then glanced away, to say hello
to friends who would introduce us

i never glanced away.
i turned
and took your eyes in
amber-lit by the yellow lights overhead
soft, playful,
divine.

torpe. or, at least i thought i was
that defensive tic now gone
as my eyes linger on you.

four years, six months pass.

i remember
as you stepped out into the afternoon
dusk bathing us in purple hues
across the sands,
your eyes amber-lit sparkled,
as you glanced my way,
turning quickly, to speak to your mother.

i turned to look at you.
and you looked back.
taking my eyes in
as i did yours.

in the midst of the throng,
of ten feet that separated us
i never felt more closer to you
than on that day,
four years, six months into the future
and three years in the past,

i breathed deeply, waiting
anticipating, worrying, wondering
if i made that moment as perfect
as you did
seven years, and six months in the past
as you walked past my circle
glancing my way.

i remember your eyes
amber-lit by the sunset,
glistening wet, as you looked into mine
from ten feet away,
no longer glancing away,
lit up, soft, playful
loving.

"Ginhawa, Butch," whispered Pastor Joel.
"Smile gamay -- the day is perfect
for you and your wife."






Penumbra: * In Transit (revision, edits, etc.)




.

In Time. *






In time, this will be forgotten

in time, the letters will remain unwritten,
as though severed from memory;
an ember thought, but not given flame.

it was unexpected, but not sudden,
anticipated, but not really something to look forward to

like the coming of twilight -- you look for the moment
when day turns to night, never seeing till it's there
rolling over you, heady, yet soft, a light touch
marred only by the blinking lights at my sight's edge,
reminding me of the day's work at end
and of the importance of forgetting.

and only in time, forgetting becomes real
and change -- foe or fiend,
but all too reckless and demanding,
will hold sway.

because all it is, is memory
of talking, laughing, enjoying company

and in trying to forget, you've come alive
everything is cast in an amber light,
and suddenly giving more meaning

to the talking
laughing
enjoying your company.

but in time, you'll see
the letters won't be written,
the thoughts dispelled
the memories tucked away
so that i would forget

and fall in love all over again.




_____

* Ongoing revisions.






.

the day of four summers.*





that day, the day of four summers
past, scintillates clearly so that
the other days that led to it
and the days in its passing
are dry leaves tossed and strewn across the ground
by a playful, teasing breeze.

that day, the day of four summers
was my life coming to an end
of a new birth; of knowing no other life before

sorrows are left to fend for their own
regrets are left somewhere, unnecessary
guilts, all true sins of the past, burned off

because on that day of four summers
i knew no more sorrow,
no more regrets,
only guiltless bliss.

for on that day, the day of four summers past
you came like a playful breeze
to tumble my days like dry leaves
you swept my days away like acacia leaves,
mere playthings to your nature

on that day of four summers
i reveled in your touch --
the wisps of your hair teasing me,
light touch of your lips caressing my cheek,
your embrace a cool respite from days before,
and so welcomed, in days that followed.

it is four summers today
and my head inclines to the beckon of the breeze
i return to the day, as the tiny acacia leaves
browned by four summers tumble away,
mere playthings in your blissful nature.













_____

*in transit; ongoing rewriting. (penumbra: something i picked up from tonton and kei)


.