pandesal sonnet
“Pandesal!Pandesal!Pandesal!”
The morning breaks as chickens cackle loud,
Where streets bear titles of flowers and fruits,
The bread boy hurries on his daily round,
His basket overflows with golden loots;
On beat, the senior folk, as clockwork, wake,
To greet the sun and share their morning fare;
While they enjoy their brew and freshly baked,
Some peruse the paper, some sweeps their share.
Workers and students don their uniforms,
Whole town, now bustling, as commutes begin,
As cackles dwindle, town is now transform'd,
The bread boy's daily rounds, at its endin',
But sleep's embrace held me, my dreams persist,
And now i crave the bread that i have missed.