Do Not Complain

there are more spaces for praise
more blanks to fill for grace

an empty seat is there for you to sit
a lonely park for you to cheer
with your steps

the late bus meets you and you must be there
as its passenger
north bound to places where you heart has not been

your room in the office
waits for your presence

the buzzing sound of the air conditioner
has been a long hypnotic friend lulling you to think

the table waits for your arms to rest
for your hands to start the magic of work

you figure out what meaning is there in all these inanimate friends of yours
you smile, there are too many....

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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