|kalachuchi/ frangipani/ plumeria - by Renesis (wikimedia commons)|
by Justine C. Tajonera
Halfway down the steps, toward
the gate, the kalachuchi tree that bends
over the small pond in the cemetery
comes to mind. She is waiting
for me. I look forward to that
day. It's just that I have so much
to do. Not enough days to watch them
fall asleep. Not enough nights of reading
to them in bed. We haven't walked among
the ruins in Mycenae yet, he and I.
I watch at the threshold. Time to cross
over. It's just another door.