A Glimpse of What Was

The village was silent

and the houses were dark

except for here

except for the light

silhouetting the gaudy figure

bent over

a piece of paper

rapidly writing with his pen

and reading with his books

at the same time

it was past midnight

The sun was shining

upon the green grass

swept by a gentle breeze

as we watch

under the shade of white

and chat

about life

with amusement

and amazement

it was dawn

The room was silent

the ceiling was white

and blank, it was clear

as the minds that flutter

as the chalk that grits

and leaves a mark

in rhythm with the voice

of learning

it was morning

At the armchair

with a spoon on one hand

and the pen on the other

asking, reading, laughing

getting over

with a quiz

or doing the impossible assignment

over the lunch box

and under the same roof with friends

it was noon

Tapping the ball pen

upon the stack of books

looking for references

authors, topics, all that can

be of use

to the paper, spilled with

inorganic blood

in awful figures of corrections

it was afternoon

Steps upon the gravel-coated stairs

conversations and final plans

walking among the santan bushes

and feeling the wind

stopping by the kiosk

or flagpole

or guidance office

or guard house

to feel the wind

and the company

it was dusk

The sight of the familiar

house, stall, dishes

cats, food, room

the backyard and the study place

the sound of welcoming

groans from a companion

love

it was evening

Lying down

on the ever-present bed

staring at the dark wall

and the dimly-illuminated ceiling

with the clock ticking by

thinking

figuring

savoring the time

when will all this end?

It was high school.