X4

must we imagine
a place away from what our hands
have long held as home?

must we still dream of those
islands
with white sands and
exotic rainbow birds?

the feet have rooted and
our bodies are old trees

the fruits are teeming
and ripe for harvest
the migrating birds are
here to be catered

happiness flows here
like springs without winters
everything here is the
fun of summer times

on domestic dreams
sleep have i,
clipped wings, bubble
world
here is this chosen
earthly eternity

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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