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RIC S. BASTASA


wasting the hours


got some hours on my hand
and i spill them all like water dripping
i am not wet
i get so hot beside you despite the spill
despite the wasted hours
i don't regret
spending time with you in a place
as far
like mirage
like an illusion of time and space
denying us
what truth lies in the metaphors of light
and shadows
veils and drapes and grassy paths

Submitted: Sunday, September 26, 2010

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