You stretch your arms
shadow my dreams,
you talk of the moon
a darkness smells.
Oaths and promises bestow upon
the constrasting human predicaments
an identity carried with another's name
whirling the globe on the student's table.
The calender declares that
your name written on the book cover,
your scribbles calls signature
gradually fades away into future.
People gossip the
Granny would naver voice in radio
for the tide has started waiting
some body to appear in the scribble.
You remember the black board
where the chalk underlines history.
( To Mita......)
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