274

we were talking under the talisay tree
about our future
one summer
when the leaves are brown
and falling to the ground

where the red ants
are busy taking their food
under a heap of
dry leaves

we will be there
to reach our destinies

but we may not be there
together

there is always a season for me
and for you
the wisdom lies in the waiting
the goodness in the waiting

and the beauty that we will see
lies in the content of our eyes
the tranquility of the pond
where the moss begins
to grow again
in stones.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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