Cynthia Buhain-baello Poems

I'd like to tell you about a friend
Who goes about selling snacks
She walks alone from Monday to weekend
From the subdivision gate and back.
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I love the quiet of the night
When only little crickets sing

In unison with the gentle breeze
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One cannot presume what the other is thinking
Nor can one give motives behind a poem
Unless in laser-like mind reading
One, like a Superman, by miracle has become.
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We were childhood playmates
Way back in the late fifties
She was sort of a retardate,
We children were not aware of this.
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He was the neighborhood nuisance
Each morning we heard his loud mouth
When he spoke he caused a disturbance
And would throw all his cigarettes about.
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By the fruit you will know them
Not by the pious labels worn
For actions and words confirm
If a man has been truly reborn.
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The tongue of the wise brings healing
And the words of Compassion, comforting.
As apples of gold in settings of silver
Words finely chosen birth harmony there.
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I have no great wealth but these
Words of comfort and this prayer
May God grant you His lasting peace
May His Love and Mercy meet you there.
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You came back today
Said you forgot some things
Too surprised
I had nothing to say,
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It is not just a play with words
A maze of thoughts from the start,
But rather a weaving of life colors
That would end as a work of heart.
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