There Is Something In Her
something that i cannot understand
her own emptiness
she felt it when the old house burns itself
for no cause at all
at the other side of the road
i can't help but hum a song
whistle within
for i own nothing
and then i dance my way back home
along the paths of sharp stones
this is my poverty here
that no one shares
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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