Vivid Images

five brown wrinkled fingers
coming out from an arm of age
ten in all
when in loneliness i lay down on a rock
and count the years
and months
and the toes are added and the tongue
forms a word from my thorax
i
love
myself

that is the declaration of my being
i stand and raise my arms to embrace the
morning sun
i look down
and see a worm
singing
its loneliness too

the leaves are falling
like my hair

the fingernails demand
the cutting of extremes

the silence of the night
sews my lips
seals my mouth

i remember mama
and i take an old picture where she is too young
and beautiful

things are always moving like an age
like a helpless wrinkle

what do i learn from this world:
nihilist, i leave everything as is

no explanations
just a signal that we are moving forward
and there shall be stopping
until the last breath is
given

off.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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