THE WHISPER OF THE AGOHO TREES

there is always sadness in the whisper of the agoho trees be it in october or april in old albay high school.

i always hear them sigh as the wind passes by. perhaps, they had been a witness to many loves lost. or many dreams broken and unfulfilled.

promises and dreams were made under its shade, but many times fell like cones and needlepines; successes charted and planned yet continued to flounder on the shoals.

perhaps, the birds on its branches have travelled far and brought back tidings of failures and forebodings: of those of us who wallow in poverty and misery, those who still hug the coastlines in fear and temerity, those of us who hid in shame and oblivion, and those of us who have triumphed and have forgotten others along the way.

in the fourth year, in our class prophecy, i was written to be the boy most likely to succeed.

by society's standards, yes. but my definition of it goes beyond. i can only claim it, when i am able to share it with my batchmates.

or when i can see the agoho trees sigh with contentment.