Incense burning, the aroma of silence
And the search for innocence
In tiny drops clinging on branches.
The call and ringing bell
During a fitful sleep, no longer there
By the window a wilted plant
And lizard bones lie on the sill.
So the folklore of this home goes:
The lizard died out of love
For the plant who provided shade,
It offered its tears.
Yawning vines droop,
As such are the acts of old men
Holding on to
What is no longer here.
Zeny May Dy Recidoro is taking up Art Studies, major in Art History at the University of the Philippines-Diliman. Sometimes, she rids her name of its beginning and end, and writes as May Dy.