Chime of Childhood

(for Mel Gian, who never saw the light of day)

on a candle-lit midnight
i hear a baby cry somewhere.
by flicker of flame smokeless
i regress —
to the comfort of crib,
the caress of cradle,
the roll of stroller,
the first hike,
the first bike…

now (suddenly),
i lament I am no longer a child
who believes in fairy tales.

the elves of inequity in childhood
have become
the ghosts of iniquity in adulthood.

the haunting never ends, even in sleep.
the deep slumber of childhood
seems too far away in a distant past,
as half-remembered nursery rhymes echo
in the silence of yesteryears.

the magical chime of childhood,
like the smokeless candle flame:

ethereal and whimsical!

– between ethereal and whimsical is magical.

(c) 2007 Chito L. Aguilar


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