You came up to me
inside the raincloud,
a couple of storms back,
and asked me of secrets
that only the sky and I
know of. I remember
telling you a handful
of stories like how lightning
is a few flimsy strings
that broke from the harps
of angels, how gardens grow
between the colors of a rainbow ,
how the moon really is
an island made of haloes.
It was a good talk. I remember
holding your hand as we walked
slowly towards that corner
where you gave me a kiss
and refused to say goodbye.
I remember watching you
step inside that single raindrop
that brought you back
to your part of the world
where you became part
of the flood once more.
—
Allen Samsuya had been a fellow for poetry during the 2009 Davao Writers Workshop, the 18th Iligan National Writers Workshop, and the 50th Silliman National Writers Workshop this year.