The Ripe Guavas
on top of a hill
beside a cliff
the branches of
the guava tree
are filled with
ripe fruits
a bird with
small wings
flew and
perched on
one of the
branches
it is pecking
on the biggest
and the ripest
which at any
moment may fall
right on the
sharp rocks
just below
the cliff
where the hands
of death keep on
waving
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
