An Observation..... Poem by RIC BASTASA

our sunglasses
are invisible
the days come by
and not all sunsets
become the same.

an old man sits by
his door on his rocking chair
waiting for the beautiful
face of the angel of
death.

a child is playing beside him
busy with his toy car
traveling with his hand.

a mother is cooking dinner
a father is arriving home
a young man is singing a song
with his gadget.

a house is well lighted
the street is busy with many
people passing by

somewhere in the public park
someone sits humming a song
that takes him back to an ancient
home.