Inside Your Armpits....

the years that you pour
on that bottle
are many,

accumulating sands,
white,
smooth to the taste of your eyes
sometimes you touch them and you let them slip

you grasp for breath
and so you gently return them back
like robins to their
nest

you contemplate of breaking the hourglass
and then
go away like a stranger

despite
time still stays beside you
inside your
armpits.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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