Within its shell, it's clasped, caressed, so delicate--
The world it knows the press of warming palms,
And nowhere in itself, devotion intricate,
Does hope inspire more than it embalms,
For when it breathes, it resonates an undue hymn
While waves above dissemble erring calm.
Oh, wraith conceived so many ways, so dim,
What primal play intended is at hand?
A thimble o'erflows, its burdened brim
Turned topside-down for all its penitence unplanned.
The seed, it sleeps, will thrive in counterfeit,
Will flourish darkly, secrets kept in wooded land.
BINABASA MO ANG
Poems for Peculiar Children
PoetryThis is a second anthology of my more whimsical and curious poems. They aren't so much for children, though anyone can read them!
