The Grass, Not The Bench
It is not the Bench
that gives me that feeling that i have touched
the face of the sky
grope my hands upon a bunch of stars
or slide my doubting finger
to a fresh wound
of resurrection
I sit there All Day
and finds nothing that redeems me
From Oblivion
It is the grass and the ground
that it has
covered for years
faithfully that have given me
the essential strength of my bones
the tingling feeling
on my heel
the feeling is more than that
i am surrounded by silent stars
cumulus clouds
feather winds
filled with foams
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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