When We Grow Old

I always ponder,
about the coming years,
and our life ahead.
Would you still be the same,
like the way you used to be?
Would you still hold my hand,
when we cross the street?
Would you still touch my hair,
even when it becomes grey or it’s all gone?

Sometimes my heart fears,
that tomorrow you might forget,
the things we used to do,
for old age might take away,
and ruin your memory.

But I also have fears,
that it’s me who would forget,
everything we used to do,
Or I may not be able to carry out,
because of physical inability,
when arthritis strikes me,
Or Alzheimer takes away my memory.

When we grow old, I wish
that nothing would change
and only you and me, without end.

Away from Dreams

I see you at the park,
smiling,
holding hands with him,
while walking along the pathway
of the beautiful flower garden.

Your face gleams with joy
while taking pictures with him,
and the backdrop is a fountain,
dancing,
the water seems celebrates with you.

I see you in the park,
but you didn’t see me,
as your lips touches his lips,
kissing,
my heart silently cries.

I return to the times, when I
feel the softness of your hands,
in this park, we leisurely walk,
wandering,
together, we build our dreams.

Now, I see you in the park,
walking,
not within my arms,
not within my touch,
away from our dreams, forever.

Our Games Yesterday

I miss the days when I was young,

Eager to play when house chores were done,

Ready for the games with my playmates,

Poor like me and even some rich kids.

We run on the hills with wooden guns,

Firing at each other with the mouth sound.

Sometimes we just settle in the yard,

Loitering, with our trumpo spinning around.

The summertime was what we enjoyed most,

For it’s the time that’s free from hassles,

No assignments to worry for the next day,

And play anytime when you were carefree.

After siesta we play the patintero, or

Noisily have fun with the tumbang preso.

The boys may opt to play the tsato,

While the girls are left to play the piko.

Sometimes we frolic in the dry rice field,

Trampling on the dry rice stalks it yields.

We run around and play the habulan, and

At night we enjoyed playing taguan.

On fiestas, we join the palo sebo,

And the pabitin that we enjoyed too.

We test our finger strength in sumping, or

Have our wooden swords for fencing.

Most girls like to play bahay-bahayan,

But more eager to join the santacruzan.

There’s the girlish game of langit lupa,

But the boys won’t fall behind with their sipa.

Ah… a lot we get from our traditional games,

Not only exercise but there are lessons learned,

To be considerate and learn to persist,

And politely accept victory and defeat.

We learn to take turns for it’s part of the game,

And endure our frustration about waiting.

We learn to recognize the hurting reality,

That not everything will always go our way.

Today, your games are played in a different way,

Quite complex and far from our games yesterday,

Games that were brought by the new technology,

But never will I trade the games I used to play.


Adapted from an article in Philippine Panorama (Magazine)