6/7
Bougainvillea is the Summer Leaves of this Tropical Island
By morning comes the road, a trike with speed,
I sit inside; the bougainvilleas bloom,
It's summer, daily weather scorches fire,
The light spreads to the sky the rays of sun.
A tropical time, its leaves are green,
But stood the pink soft leaves top and center,
A sari-sari store of where it sits,
What sight—behold, what beauty arrays.
By then our trike has moved, the bougainvilleas,
I see them far away, like speed of time.
Don't be a fleeting, fading picture, I
Remember, trike kept running; a space in time.
