I situate myself
On a park bench, under a towering tree
Where the doves perch and the beasts are free
Wan and wild, prancing blissfully absolved from reality.
Where I watch them on the handsome tapestry,
My eyes contented and gratified with such scenery.

Under the Sun where I could talk frankly,
With the rays of the light that purges me evidently.
I feel renewed, I feel alive as if the dawning of January.
And the fabric that I wear falls softly on my skin,
As if I am one, with the resilience of the satin.

All of the children are playing endlessly,
Playing tag, or hide-and-seek, I wish to join them
On their flawless motions and their calm breathing
But what hinders me, is what I have been feeling
That you’re not home yet, what am I doing?

The quiescent morning does not appeal to me,
And the lucent aurora speak so much with ecstasy,
That I should sit there idly on the park bench
But with a longing as deep as a trench,
There is such thirst that nothing could ever quench.

I will be waiting for you on the park bench
No matter how long shall it take for you to get here,
Ride the subway, take the train, bring an umbrella because it might rain
As long as you’re not here, I will remain like the barley
Resting with the tall grass and juxtaposed to the stationary monkey bars

And if you would not come, then I must have been cursed
Like the butterfly that carries the raindrops over wings that are marred
For in these moments that you are not here, it is hard
To vindicate myself whether this be a fantasy, or this is all but real
So without you, tell me what to believe and what to feel.

by Windsor Guadalupe Jr