A Shipwright

The falling dark red leaves of Autumn
were a dream constructed by a shipwright
as he watched those boats sail away
from the harbor of 200 cobalt dreams
one long ago day.

With five different shades of pink,
the shipwright painted these maple cabinets
with abstract emotions
and a dusk only found
in the auburn horizon of Manila.

That shipwright followed the Northern Lights
for 3 weeks and 2 days
to only arrive at a conclusion
that the midday breeze
would always tell him
to protect the things
that are important to him.

The North Star was very important
to the shipwright,
for it,
he would abandon the lighthouse
where his daughter
used to sing a melody
only his heart could hear,
where 1800's could be foretold
in his Mother's eyes,
where he became somebody's poetry.

He always thought that the North Star
was a lost metaphor,
an amber dream that was not meant to fall
underneath autumn skies.

If he could literally rewrite the past,
he would use the pen
that was used by his wife
to scribble promises in a poem
one rainy afternoon
that smelled like the second cup of coffee
he drank while listening
to a Jasmine's incessant laughing,
and he would use the paper
that was ornately coloured
by the labyrinthine time...
with thoughts of keeping everything
inside his palm--
from the dark red leaves that fall
to the North Star
and that lighthouse.

---

Nothing is meant to be
disregarded in this world,
especially when only they
know all the tales
that your heart has drawn.