Recuerdos de la Alhambra

the walls listen to the sounds of
spanish guitar
strings playing the

recuerdos de la Alhambra
silence stills itself

on this windless noon
the fan did not move and the

wooden chair is stifled
if it has hands it would have

clapped and it if has the mouth
it would have said

'sublime! '

the carpet that keeps
the pin
does not have wings

it transcended the feet
a revered existence

lofty, splendiferous.
i felt something
diving
penetrating my
emptiness.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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