By George P. Lumayag
Lights marching uphill and downhill
On a dark mountain site
With fireflies nesting at midnight
But few young minds work ‘till dawn
Then a cold dew soothes my bone.
Fireflies twit online and I read their poetry
Words on the air I distinguish
They’re young dreamers I wish
Then a spectrum of lights may rise
Surrounded by darkness with distant lights
They need a fruitful sunrise
And I wait for their prolific daylights.
Sparkling lights of art shine online
Then the newly coined words I pen sometimes
For those young minds who carry eight heavy loads
And for these distant lights who digest my arts and words.
Copyright © GEORGE LUMAYAG | Year Posted 2019