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Six Thirty Nine In The Morning
it is raining
but the way the things are going
this morning seems to be so soft and gentle
tiny needles of rain like some snowflakes
in my mind
i have not been to chicago or to new jersey
or to any place where there is snow
where the coldness perhaps
strikes at the core of the heart
where my loneliness
though how far taken to make it
disappear like a car running to the farthest road
and like a dot dissolving in the horizon
shall not perish
not even diminish like a number five
subtracted from four
it is cold even when the sun starts to shine
simply because
you are not here with me
poem
by
Ric S. Bastasa
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