Dreaming Of Pigeons

not on a Sunday but it was
a Wednesday
the novena of the Mother of Perpetual Help
when her hands are soft
and cold,

as cold as the limestone wall
of the Spanish Church
the air is chilly for on that month
the rain does not stop

two teenyboppers kneeling
praying to make it through the uncertainties
of youth

love that feeling when brushing the skin
of the beloved
makes the universe travel into light years
with meteors exploding
like the Fourth of July

I still remember this
But now without so much flare.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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