Checking Love

when you arrive at night
i am buried in my heap of paper works
still,

when i go to bed because it is too late
you iron
clothes and sort what is clean
from what is dirty,

i am buried in sleep and you wake up
in the middle of this darkness

to see if there are birds flying in the horizon of trees
if stars are alive if

they still glitter.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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