A Bench Poem by Aaron Ralph
A Bench
Maybe one day
I shall be
a bench
on bright tiles
of endless seas.
Perhaps,
I'll be less
a boat,
a wooden stone,
carved by wind:
a lion,
a hunter,
of fire,
of pyres,
a stone -
of wind…
A burning cigar,
painting horizons,
with fading ink.
A bench,
thought straying,
dreams linger,
clouds depart,
shadows come,
darkness flies,
hoisted sails -
harbor of wind.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
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5/5/2024 4:51:01 AM # 1.0.0.1119
