This Dream............

i walk that way
after we talk much

i stop somewhere
a shade of a tree

or was it when i
went over the fence

oh, it does not matter
anymore, where or when

what bothers me is this:
i miss something that is

crisp, or an inch, shorter
even, succinct, or just

a word perhaps, and then
i rest in a cave and i

arrive at this dream:
drifting, sans words.

by RIC BASTASA

Comments (1)

Ric, such an interesting write worthy of 10+++