Well, coincidentally beneath the boughs of the hairy tree,
I was waiting for its infamous sinister creak,
and so were you with your bag wrapped around your shoulders,
and a camera dangling by your neck;
And looking at you made me start thinking,
that we could have had met in a French boutique,
Or better yet in one of the dilapidated churches in Spain,
that are, I must say, much much older,
than the one closest to our tree.
We could have had met by a fountain in Venice,
or maybe in the buzzing streets of New York,
or perhaps, in a beach somewhere in the Pacific.
But, dear no, it had to be beneath this ancient tree,
for that was where we were supposed to be.


Published by

cie miraflor

A Filipino at heart and a Thomasian in spirit. A vocalist. A bookworm. A chocoholic. A liar. A dreamer. A coffee addict. A writer of poetry and short stories. A pending Information Technologist. A frustrated programmer. Blinded with love for Batman.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s