A Primera Luz

you wake up only to find out
that at this hour you are confused with
what to do first

you rise put on propriety
you walk towards the fridge
you open it to
have a cold glass of water
to drink and feel
the coldness of this
still gray hour

there is no difference
it is the same cold moment
like last night's
old temperament
when you had problems about
what to do
with your life when you took off
propriety
and lay your self naked against
light of the ceiling's
indifference

there is simply no one that fits
the one that you dream: so sweet
and enduring
the eternal goodness that you
still hope for

there is no one,
no one

perhaps there could be good news
on a primera luz.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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