Back To Me...again...

Everything we see
Everyone we meet along the way
We embrace
All

Moment by moment
Familiarity
We are surely
Fed-up to all these
Cycles of acquaintances
Numbing our senses
Of letting go

Goodbye here and there
Until we do not know what it means again
Hellos that do not give surprises
Like counting the grains of
White sands
Of a faraway secluded beach

Enclosed now
I must prefer only this small room
Where
It is only me that fits
After all, I was born this way
Singled out by
Mother.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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