All About Us

a cup,
a shovel, a therapy,
a string
a lock of hair
air, packets of heaving sighs,
a dirty blanket
an open window,
the sea,
a scribble on yellow paper,
a brink,
of what? an edge of where?
pieces of junk
driftwood, an old river,
the usual fallen leaves,
some puzzles of you
not all of you
but parts, shattered glass,
catching you
holding your hand
and then
releasing your fingers
like drops of
water from my hands,
slipping sands
last breath
wordlessly

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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