In My Island...
there is no regret having stayed
in this humble land of my
forefathers,
there are no chocolates,
no green money,
nothing of those jumbo hot-dogs
and burgers and hams and sandwiches
no coffee or tea
nothing of those cakes and wheat breads
plain potatoes and dried fish
and staple rice
no earthquakes, no volcanic eruptions,
no tsunamis
i am not stuck in here
we live here
forever.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa

Submitted by Poetry Lover
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