Requisites Poem by A. G. Bawang

Sir,

They asked me

Is it art?

Is it a man looking at his first sunrise?

What boundless joy we have when we pass!

Is it precise like the carpenter’s hand?

What pains we suffer for a glance!

Is it so pressing as the will of a child for ice cream?

What we will not give for a-
Does it possess and leave prints?