Scheme

the seed sprouts
and tells the true story about
its being embedded
beneath
the coat of its being

beneath the fertile ground
promises of leaves
and roots

the sun is too harsh
to face
the moon too cold

survival is the aim
of every
red ant

the tree is big
and tall and the clouds
are friends

one day
it learns the song of the grasshopper
after which
the conversations become as nice
as buds

there are truths to hide
words to decorate
sweet
white lies

the story begins with
a whim
caprice its complication

there ought to be a nice ending
a freeing

it is all about the full blooming
of a red rose

i have all the petals inside my hands
to complete the
story

you love it
do not tell me.

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