Child’s Best Days
By: Mary Grace R. Po

Wake up at anytime of the day

And get anxious of nothing

Lying in a perfectly posed bed

Prepared just to soothe your personal comfort.

Then after a minute or two,

You step out of the faultlessly coutured cradle

Making all and sundry be conscious

That you have already widely awakened.

Everybody then gives a big grin at you

As an affectionate response for your presence

There’s your mom in the corner busy picking for the finest item

Just to guarantee a best bowl of dish for her prince.

As you anticipate for the fodder to be dished up

You take a seat in a tidily arranged dinning spot

After it’s been all set up by the hands of amorous guardians

You satisfy yourself with those victuals exclusively doled out for you.

The Chocolate Box of Experience
By: Mary Grace R. Po

Alone in your spot you came across into something

Familiar but has roughly forgotten its existence

You settled in a lone corner of your room

And set off to evoke if what’s within.

You caught a sight of ones in a lifetime memoirs

Reminisce all those picturesque events that has passed in your yesteryears

The faces, the places, the time and the moments

All conferred you countless of reasons to induce your emotions.

As you went through the pages of old episodes of your life

You chuckled about the dim-witted stuffs you did

Shed off tears as you recall the awful experiences that have transpired

Made your consciousness awaken to the fast pacing of life.

The first times that you thought you would fall short

The triumphs you have pulled off ably

Realizing God’s superb gifts to mortals

All those were the days you yearn to plunge once again.

The photo album as the chocolate box of life’s enchanting pictures

Is something that has been fashioned to fill ones hunger

To reverse the time, see the persons who turned out to be part of your being

With it, for now it is one way or another, a chance to capture once vim and vigor.

Chocolates, want some?

Photographs anyone?

Alteration
by Mary Grace R. Po

In the vein of a hatched egg

I crawl up like a maggot

I munch foodstuffs

Akin to what typical creatures necessitate.

As I gratify myself for a day

I lay down for my comfort

I slumber in my crib

Resembling to a caterpillar that sticks itself to a leaf.

I am a zilch of knowledge

As regards to the so called life

I hang around and eagerly stay

As I loom that I can fully be acquainted with it.

I am analogous to a cocoon

Waiting for the hard shell to be cracked

As time elapsed I went out of my spot

Similar to a butterfly I saw my crumpled wings

I pulled out myself, geared up

Outfitted with sufficient comprehension

Prepared to face as to what lies ahead

I have already endured my own metamorphosis.

Hello

Hello,this is my first blog in Blogspot. hehe.