By Shawn Marc B. Carreon
Towards the day at the end of dawn,
Clouds began to surface the sky,
As if it holds its breath for the world alone,
Sounds tan through a purposeful night.
The birds seem to contribute to a picture,
They cast songs through the hues and contribute the capture,
A base for molten eyes to melt on,
A space for foreign smiles we held on.
Bright, so true to be spoken of,
To leaves that shadow a part of light,
We give love to any but not many,
A beauty of its own to have plenty.**
