A lacy arch once bowed over me. Regina of elegance, I was beheld. In crystal tiara and sequined cloak, my king beside me, my hand he held. Arches of mortality in fantasies I conceive. In stones, in leaves or in lacy trimmings, Precise they are in purpose and meanings.
Dreamers can dream, wishers can wish as long as they are living.
As I journey through the paths of life, above and below these arches prevail. But one heavenly day, in a desolate place, behind me curved a living arch. Bonita P. Valdez-Cruzada. All rights reserved.