Treasure Island

RIC S. BASTASA


feeling a red brick wall with my soft white hands


red bricks
walls
thick walls

seeing these walls
of red bricks
feeling the hardness
of each
with my soft hands

close my eyes
feel that
i am inside you
a wall

no i don't scream
i moan

and then i am silent
so tired and
asleep

dreaming of windows
red doors
golden locks
platinum keys

wings on my shoulder
feathers of birds

blue skies red suns
blue moons

Submitted: Sunday, July 18, 2010
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