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ANOTHER VESTIGE
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2003 Poetry The bus was running in moderate speed
passing along the asphalt road of Pangasinan
scents of the good ole days
My eyes were squinting to the milieus,
which reminded me of my childhood.
Fusion of sadness and bliss crept at a snail's pace;
they sought my tears to fell on the ground,
be left as a remnant and nutrients to the lawn
I refused to get off the bus, not for anything else,
but for something I know I would miss again
My vacation was very swift and brief
another vestige has occupied my anamnesis
written 10/21/03
