Poetry by | October 11, 2009

Grandparents are just dreams
Fleeting and passing each night;
though they’re mysterious, you won’t care
once you wake up.
Grandparents are only stories
Fleeting and passing every time,
Though wonderful, you won’t care
once you carry on with your routines.
Grandparents are mere bubbles
Fleeting and passing as they float
though they shine against the light
you won’t care, once they pop.
I never met my grandparents,
long dead and fled, like the stories
mother told about them.
I never cared.
But each time she told those stories,
I saw hurt gleaming in her eyes.
That’s why I started to care.

Freidrich Layno is a junior in the Creative Writing program of UP Mindanao.

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