To Lahong Shore

Gone are the days when your shore at low tide would offer a long roll of smooth paper upon which a young boy would sketch his points and lines and make his talent sprout; when your sea would sweetly kiss and caress the fine white sand; when your talisay, dapdap, and calumpang trees would dance to the chorus of wind and birds. I miss those days. I miss you now that your sand has joined the walls of concrete abodes of people who make your sea waves sick, throwing up every time they smell the litters' stench; now that your trees have closed their ears to the monotony of trite wind and leaving of birds. I miss you now.