The Sound Images Of Innocence

bathing bare on the river
the kids of the neighborhood
they have never seen
the crocodile

and then the go home
together
spreading laughter
along the path of mud
beside the
wild flowers

they pass upon a forest
and climbs some trees
tease the monkeys
and gather the ripe berries
and imitate the wings
of black birds

the chase each other
without the numbers
never mind their shadows
until it gets dark

and then they are home again
their mothers singing songs
their fathers telling stories
about how the tigers roar

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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