10:29 P.M.

between us
are these glass window panes
dusty and
misty combined

i see a body
above it profuse light
it is facing me
as i write
my story and this
poem

i know there is no one
living in this house
all are in the monotony
of abandon

i am not afraid of you
another sculpted space
i call it
emptiness still
unaccepted

he calls himself
ghost
but i do not really mind
i too
have unfinished business
and by all means
i must finish it
now....

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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