Searching

GRASS Blades
on the marsh
like swords
pointing to the
skies,

empty open hands
like twigs
at winter time
asking for nothing

come spring
a bud gives hope
another one speaks
of a promise

from a glass window
upon a frost
the eyes are gazing
waiting for a sunny
day, looking for light.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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