That Early Morning

under the trees
you tread upon a heap of leaves
only a few feet walked on this path
the winds came and gave a hush
it has been this way
since

meanwhile some rays of light
begin to pierce crevices between

touchy
the leaves fall like a confetti
you remember
once when freedom first arrived
in the streets of the city
you hear the shouts of joy
for liberation
you remember opening hands
some fists

it is over now
and what you have are the sounds of footsteps
on the heaps of leaves
on this path
where no one likes to tread again

you are
alone again but stronger this time

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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