An old tennis ball
The dirty green felt skin
Completely flayed
Leaving the cracked rubber bones
Fully bare
A small but fitting tribute
To the fun we had together
Don't know how many times
I threw that ball to you
You brought back every toss
No matter how far it travelled
Never tiring of our game
But, now, resting beneath the wood violets
You can no longer run or retrieve
Finally, it's my turn to bring the ball to you
So, if you feel the weight
Of an old tennis ball
Compressing from above
Know that it is me
Old friend
As I complete
Our final game of fetch
In memory of Buddy
BINABASA MO ANG
A Tree Takes Root
Poetrya tree takes root out of the seeds that were sown as deep in the forest a new life is grown
