For Antonio (A Reply) Poem by Inday Prising

Five long years have passed
yet I walk the same old streets
the bright red light of the late afternoon
reflecting the shadows
that are slowly taking shape

Sometimes, I wish you were here beside me
marking time
waiting for the 5: 45pm chimes

Few days ago, I talked about you
to our friends from not so long ago
they asked about you
I answered I really don't know

Truth is, I still hear your voice
I still hear your whispers
And you rigid heartbeats along with the memories
with this memories
the imprints slowly take shape
'...' you said to me
and all I could hear were the crescendos
of the leaves in the old mango tree
and the warmth of the summer
penetrating upon me
'...' I answered back
with a passion i never thought I had

But you cannot be she said to me
you cannot be she said again
she starts screaming
and all i could do was follow
and when she stopped
so did the crescendos