Tuesday, May 13, 2008



I miss the sound of hoofsteps
pattering on the pavement like rain.

How I long for the sweet scent
of summer rain between late dusk

and early evening, the croaking
of the frogs, evoking memories lost

in the stars. Perhaps the horses too
have flown to the skies as comets

acquiring pegasic wings no carriage
can resist, no memory can recall.

Note: Tartanilla is the horse-drawn carriage that used to ply the streets of rustic towns in the southern part of the Philippines prior to rapid urbanization.

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