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for D.
when you let me in
i feel the warmth of your room
a little bit damp
for a summer time like this one
i must be honest
there is something inside that repulses
what i have in mind
there is coffee that does not fit the time
there is that cookie that
does not satisfy
any hunger of mine
i beg you then
to let me out
into the open fields of my desire
where i can be home
again
you stay
do not let me hear you cry
at least you are free
inside the home
of your being
i yet have to find a home
a place to rest my head
and wash my feet and hands
a place where i can be once silent
because i have
nothing to say
poem
by
Ric S. Bastasa
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