Cold Afternoons

Cold Afternoons
Mark James Evangelista

It was a very very cold afternoon.
I was there watching everyone
sitting along an old broken log.
I was asking myself,
why I was there
and everyone else
seems not to care.

It was a very very cold afternoon.
I don't know why
but the sun's rays
did not pricked my skin, or chap my lips.
I was asking myself,
why I can't sense?
but only this feeling
of coldness, so intense.
Oh! sweet and gentle sky.
Please...please tell me why
answer my call
for you alone can cast a spell.

It was a very very cold afternoon.
Then suddenly the rain started to fall.
Abruptly,
I ran for shelter.
Again, I do not know why...
the plashing of waterdrops
in the metal roof
seems to bother me,
as I weep.
The dripping never cease...
throngs of thunder,
packs of lightning,
started to melt...
beneath the August rain.

It was a very very cold afternoon.
Asking, wandering, dreaming
Again, I walked
along with the daffodils and daisies,
crushing pebbles,
beating stones,
but still bewildered...
Is this thrill?
Is this joy?

It was a very very cold afternoon.
As I begin to ponder,
I started to remember
How I and my comrades,
fought hard in the South.
Fighting for nothing,
Yes, for nothing...
Then suddenly, I felt a different pain on my head.
My nerves started to crack,
My foot wanted to move,
My hand dared to reach.
Yet, I can't

It was a very very cold afternoon.
Inscribed above me,
on a thin polished marble.
Verses of praises,
adulation and honor.
Yet, it is nothing. Yes...nothing
For I can no longer rest
on my sweetheart's loving embrace.