By Czhan Leigh Calimlim | The Sillimanian Magazine
‘Tis the season for the midnight oil,
where a web of red slings cross paths,
where each rush to the next class,
except I who keeps burning in turmoil.
There goes Manong guard with his signature greeting,
and there goes my mates, chuckling with their cliques,
while I can only think of surmounting finals week,
even the golden-brown Acacias shine, beaming.
Oh, Silliman, how do you thrive through the agony?
It drives me mad, walking through alleys astir with life,
nothing ever feels more superficial than my strife,
or something in the air just makes one forget reality.
That’s when a glimmer came about,
the same glimmer in everyone else’s eyes.
Lo and behold, a miracle in disguise,
of a bright yellow signboard down the Hibbard route.
It invites me to toss a coin.
Its cursing chime scratching an itch,
echoing a promise to grant my wish,
just as it magically makes all adjoins.
I was never one to count on miracles,
and yet, I count the little silvers in my pocket.
Onto the signboard, a silver lining plummets,
as I hit the board and join my mates in their hopeful chuckles.
