To Fleur De Sac
this is what i learned
from that struggle
i won because i fought
i did not beg
the old masters taught us well
no one gives you things inside
a silver platter
there are no clean hands anymore
neither is there a need to shed blood
you make me win because i deserve winning
you have been convinced
i know how it is not to bow
not to stoop
with dignity i demand what is due me
the years are on my side,
my solitude is my sole guide
into the place where i must wear my laurels.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Added by Poetry Lover
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