RIC S. BASTASA
400 - Poem by RIC S. BASTASA
her blond hair unkempt
her eyes looking at the side of this page
and she does not say it
as she holds her piece of burnt pancake
with her tiny hands
all too dirty for a child
why not do a good turn for me?
i am helpless.
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Still I Rise
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Edgar Allan Poe
Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening
I Do Not Love You Except Because I Love You