So Many Silences

it is no longer that question
whether one is happy or not

it is a matter of just meeting moments
using the eye

feeling those hands
and then as usual making goodbyes

it is a routine repeating one after the other
meanings rubbing elbows with other elbows

useless chatter empty promises rolling stones
nothing mossy temporary wetness

sunny days cool shades eyeopening
nothing pleading

washing out letting go
social cliches drained brains

broken hearts repairing visions
living more making more beginnings

candle lights and then the pretenses of
so many silences.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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