Taking Courage

there is no escape
when our eyes
meet again
on a morning like this

my feet are tired of
running from the
dreams of
my hands
the heart speaks
and my mind
keeps the intricate
tendrils of its
logic

all of them point to
the flower of love
that blooms

finally i cut it from
its stalk
and deep in the
hollows of my heart
this vase
without water
i shall watch
it wilt

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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