he was not coy he was open
and he knows how to use words to make you
feel at home with his own
angst,
his name was Roy from Subic Bay
and he knew how to play the flute like a member of the heaven's choir
he was sociable and mixes will all the sectors
of the people
he was clean and spoke well about the necessity of being clean
and shaven
we envied him and we wanted to be like him in all aspects
and these made us lonely all the while
as we lost contact of the uniqueness of ourselves
we were lost along the way and we stepped out from the enclosure.
we came to know later
that Roy was gone and could not be accounted for.
how was that? we still ask that question all over again.
now i am 50, clueless and
realistic.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem