Soliloquy At 5: 52 In The Morning Poem by RIC BASTASA

Estes does not remember who
the person was. Perhaps that old sunlit window
with white laces overlooking the cliff
shall be a good reminder about what happens
when love insists about nectarine sandwiches
for the morning.
the blue skied mountains and the foamy seas
the white sandy shores keep us alive from
the monotony of our daily sorrows.
one can make the leaves sing in a choir
one can convert the silence of the suns
to the wisdom of the turtles.
the words are enjoying the worthlessness of
their having been written only for purposes
of the posterity of the empty paper.
there can be no homes with people i agree.
if one loves, one must love the beauty of
dying and accept that happy ending.