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Something Uncommon
the little boy cried
last night he clenched his fist
and demanded
in fury that the window be opened
the mother who was not there
talked over the phone
through the elder girl
who was in charge of their
affairs
sensing the danger of
what may happen when the
window is opened
it was simple
i mean the boy's demand was simple
he clenched his fist against the moon
for what reason
i do not really know
at his young age at three
though i've been there once
i still cannot figure out why?
poem
by
Ric S. Bastasa
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