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.
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