Respecting My Silence

boredom comes like a wilting flower
and you like to save yourself from seeing

how such a kind of living thing die
so gently facing the sun and letting

the air take its scent and substance.
i look at things differently now. Let the

petals take the form of a fulfillment.
Let the lone leaf grieve for a passing

Though momentarily we know that.
Things come and go, moving to and

from from a scale of one to ten and then
back again to zero. Wisdom. There is

so much wisdom is our silence. And
she says, that is one thing that must

also be respected, like how we take
the melting of a snowflake in our palm.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!