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Five Stairs
there are five stairs
in my life
on the fourth of which
shall be death
it is not the last
but surely i shall step in there
but i am stuck
on the third and here i am
delighted because it is so pleasing
it is not wood
it is soft and warm and even though
not as stable as the third
but it is as pleasurable as the sweetness
of my temporary days
thick and syrupy like pure honey
from the bee
poem
by
Ric S. Bastasa
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