The Old Poet

he speaks of the sea
the vastness of space occupied
nonetheless by water & salt

suddenly he says
a door appears for him to enter
for me to see

he enters
and the door closes in
as i watch
his grace and grandeur

then he is lost forever
while i reflect on what happens also to me
the next time

this time
i prefer more windows
this time
i like to study more
the air & mountains

for i am new
and the ocean will be too much
and this door thing
will be very hard to understand

a black bird comes to me
it speaks of freedom
i look at it eye to eye
i say i like it more sitting
flying is still the future
today is still mine
without wings.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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