RIC S. BASTASA

you slept on your
years like rip van winkle
and you come
to me
unable to say
what time
is it where you
are what the heck
is this place
so new to you

your hair white
begging on your
knees your teeth
yellowed by
unbrushed years
your eyes
blankly trying
to know
what this world
brings you

wake up
to a new day

a new life,
welcome

lost brother
this is my hand
that you have
long forgotten