Willie R. Bongcaron, PH





solar eclipse
the crescent moon yawns
to the left



morning news...
in between sips of tea
and conversation



with the fog
the sun is up...
chilly me



by the brook...
the innocence of a child
playing with daisies



crescent moon
lying on a bed
of soft clouds



listening to the hazy sound
of your being


alone, missing your touches in my poem



missing you, the train's journey is eons away





the night is ripe
to pen you a song...
the waves are still
and the music shall bind
you closer to my heart



the front yard
at dawn
after a fiery night
of ecstasy and romance



into the night
staring at book-pressed petals
when the moon is full
long after you were gone
to make love to the wolves


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