The scorching sun, the memorable smells of morning class
Torturing and fiery!! Is this what they call a heatstroke?
Somehow delivers me unto the phase of madness
Yet – tasted – sweet as a fruitcake

Realization across to mind
As Tu enters the stage in elegance
Viewing in telescope until the eyes go blind
For little did I know, it was the cause of a moon’s presence

Tell me, where should I sow this longing?
For I am lost between the walls of a labyrinth
Doubtful, thinking that it was a zing
And there begin the trials of the truth.


Author: Angelin Libert W.H 

Editor: Michael Tan 

Illustrator: Ariel Harpa

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