In the Field, Where We Met

By Alfredo M. Macapanas Jr.

She said, I think I’ve seen
you before? Tell me—is it
in the field? Where we met
While I was gathering sunflowers?
You said it was your favorite.
Do you remember?

I said, I’m a stranger
here—I think you mistake
me for someone else.

“It was you, I know. I
Remember. Wake up dear,
from your deep slumber.”


“I write to express my feelings, and to unbuckle the pain and happiness living inside of me.” – the writer

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