A Poet to His Mother

I may have not been too vocal in the past
Of my respect and love—for they are so vast
An old ballad sings: "Some good things never last"
But in me, O Mother, may you put your trust

My childhood memories with you and Father
Are in my heart well-kept—be lost they'll never
Our countless strolls in Luneta and Ongpin
Were magical as the lamp of Aladdin

Your well-cried tears and heartily shed laughter
Till my twilight I will always remember

To be happy for and love one another
You taught us how—my lovely sisters and me
Forgiveness in our hearts, you said, should be free
The reason we persevere to be better

The pains and sacrifices that you've been through
I shared them all with you; you know it is true
Every ups-and-downs, you're always there beside
Me—believing, comforting, reassuring

Like a hen, you reared us single-handedly
Like chicks, we followed you affectionately

I might have pecked and scratched you from time to time
Whatever pain I'd caused you...pardon my rhyme
For you, I will always be...hoping...dreaming

I may have not been too vocal in the past
Despite, you knew my love and respect are vast
A few years more must pass—oh Time, such a tease!
Yet from yearning to go home I'll never cease

— Tuesday, January 18, 2005; Surrey, British Columbia
While listening to "Ode to My Family" by The Cranberries
(No Need to Argue; 1994, Polygram Records)