Casting The Dice

off you go,
a new decision,
a promise of more reservations
still, the water
inside the glass
of the deflowered table,
down
under the four feet
lies the sadness of the floors
waters spill
no one wipes for changes
all are seated well
tasting the delicacies of the present
facing the faces
gladly devising lies
for survival

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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