by Sankage Steno

Image result for baguio pine trees

The memory of your nearness
lingers in the air

like the scent of pine
atop the Cordillera mountains.

Collected and calm
the ghost of you haunts
my innermost senses

stalking the depths
of my mind’s mansion

each room a remembrance
chills of the night

ever-present in the Summer
Capital. You walk the hidden
alleys of my soul

conquering what cannot be;
mastering what must be

unlearned. And I sit
in front of your afterglow
evanescing like clouds kissing

the misty hills only to return
as the penumbra of light.