Whence Do All These Come From?

each drop
of rain from the leaking roof
rhyming
with the words coming from my thoughts,

each hush of the wind
caressing my face each kiss of the sun
on my hair my lips
each road that is offered to my feet
my fingers holding
smooth thighs

each love, each silence,
all from You

to where shall i then go and call someone
a home?

you.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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