It must have felt like

a crystal dolphin
attached to a string
of chimes hanging
over the little pond
when the water ceases
to flow to the rhythm
of springs,
when the bells toll
and let go of their hold,
when the notes slip
on smooth pebbles,
when the music
hangs limp
on the string
and nothing, no
nothing stays

but the whistling
of the wind.

—-
Maureen Ronquillo is taking up Creative Writing in UP Mindanao.