The Usual Choice
after the rain
comes summer
something wet
dries up
the pain ebbs
like a
hidden creek
without an
exit
remember
those playful baths
the chase
the fun and
unsubmerged laughter
we were once
young
and unpredictable
so much
joy
no thoughts
no rules
forty seven summers
and we learn
the meaning of rain
odds and evens
wrongs and rights
being still
like a tree without the
wind
summertime
it will be fun
but not for us
anymore
spectators of
the stars
hiding bodies from
midday
light...
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Added by Poetry Lover
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