Summer's End

I imagined the Bicol Express zipping through
the patches of billboards crowding each other
and I saw you seated nonchalantly by the window
oblivious of the hazy strobe of faces, trees and high wires
missing frames like a derailed film from its sprockets

did you have to leave earlier than all of us?
every hour gone from the time you left
were precious sands from a shore of memories
collected as keepsakes but now spilling in a waisted glass
as streams of regrets fast receding, collecting in tidal pools

now, there you sit on a fast moving train
nary a thought of the stretch of sandy dunes and starry skies
shared a few cherished days ago in a sultry beach in Legazpi
did you have to leave earlier than all of us?
I missed my chance to say what I wanted to say all summer