Forgetting......
the hands of time swindle us
just this morning a tight bud loosens
its collars
that morning upon a glimmer
wink of
a second, night folds unfolds like
disco lights
you dance and you dropp your
body
you cling to uncertainties
the hands of time drops you
in the middle of nowhere
and you ask where is this place?
you are right there
but this time your skin
has only bones
your neighbor who once fished with you
in the river
cannot recognize you
you too forget
what time is it what is this place
who am i?
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Added by Poetry Lover
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