What I Am To You

who are you?
i am not the sun
i do not have light
my hands are not
rays

do not worship me
do not look down
look at me straight in
my eyes
i cannot blind
you

i am a river
come, come to me
plunge in me
flow with me
in my own sorrow

do not stand there
and raise your hands
trying to reach me
i am not a cloud

i am a tree so
come, come, come to me
climb in my branches
pick my fruits
have some to eat
i am the kindness of the hill
the shade of the tired
traveler

do not create a distance
i am the grass
sit upon me
lay your body
i am soft and i am cool
make yourself comfortable.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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