Of Flowers, Books and Dreams

At 10, I dreamt of becoming a medicine man,

            A doctor, who heals the sick and extend a lifespan.

At 16, I dreamt of getting away

            To a far-off land so I can sway and play.

At 20, I wanted to grow up

            So I can finally chase my dreams and setup.

At 30, I know I’ve grown up somehow.

I have my Paul, my Phoebe and my Emar, too.

They are the dreams I’ve chased in my here and now;

The ones I’ve swayed and played with, my little crew.

I may not be able to extend a life or heal the sick.

I can, however, soothe their hurts with my “magic” stick.

Last night, I dreamt of flowers and books.

            One a creation of Him, the other a product of man’s outlooks.

At 40, I’d want to switch careers and be a florist,

            Or the keeper of good books set-up in a forest.

I’ve come to adore flowers, arranging them in a so-so manner.

I’ve always loved books, passing this passion on to my Paul, my Phoebe.

They are new dreams I want to chase, as the family’s chronic planner;

And as I travel to far-off places with my Paul, my Phoebe, my Emar in a jiffy.

Here are the flowers I arranged last night when we got home after a long day in Ormoc. Aren't they beautiful? Flowers remind me that there is beauty in colors, in a life wildly lived  - not well-arranged, not structured. Just is.