When the rooster crows
And you hear the bicycle bells clinging
The revving of cars
And shoes of students squeak on the road
The endless buzz of conversation
The morning runs, the river flows, the forest sways
It’s dawn.
Along the highway are the clustered houses
The road more taken when the sun glows
And the sky; orange
The road less taken when the moon smiles
An old rusty tractor on the road
No one remembers how it got there
No one sees the tractor
It’s the road.
The river is a special part of us
Water lilies and green mosses cover the ripples
White egrets walk daintily
At nighttime the river is dark and still
Fireflies lit up the surface
The river flows through below an old bridge,
It’s the road.
The lone house sits quietly in the deep forest
The palm trees swaying
Bats hanging upside down on trees
Their cries mingle with the bustle of the noon
But pierce through the silence of the night
It’s home.
Darkness and silence seep in
She walked the deserted road back
A dimly lit lantern in hand
A tray of goods on her head
Two eyes stared at her
She’s never afraid until
She’s home.
the roses petal 
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