1979. rough times.
there was this
no man's land.of
rebels
dead bodies
were unaccounted for
on the road to
Pagadian.
we were on the bus.
it was a long travel
north of this
coastal island
the seagulls were
at sea looking
for a catch of
silvery fish
we pass them by
the bus was muddy
and the rain fell
hard on the roof
and we closed the
glass window
afraid to get wet
slowly your weary head
inclined towards
my muscular chest
and rested there
and you began to
sleep soundly and
weave your own dreams
i smelled your soft, black hair
and i saw a beautiful face
with luscious lips
red as a rose in bloom
an inch away from mine
i could have kissed you
without your knowing
a slight touch could have
perfected love
on your cheek
but i didn't.
Now i ask myself
if i ever have any regret
living a longer life in this
world. I have an answer.
it was a long, long travel.
and we at last arrived there.
the rain stopped.
the sun started to shine.
i still ask: why did i not kiss you?
why did i not even ask your name?
RIC S. BASTASA
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/on-the-long-road-to-pagadian/
