Written by: Angela Fabunan

my serenity has a whole world in his hand-holding stance
almost like running to your pillowed arms, pledging to you
that day in August, or was it September, when I came here
I now know better my elders were never too true their wise
hips moving to the beat. Everyone, every body look
at the cement, stony though it maybe, it's full of the sweet 
ravishing, pillowing ground I'd like to rest my head upon,
light like the oranges we ate one summer, windows open
by the bookcase dreaming of a heroine, pine needles on 
his back, I could go on forever dreaming of snow, like how
warm you are next to me on the covers of books, magazines
undiscovered relations, the relaxation you never read out loud.