A Reminder For Myself... Poem by RIC BASTASA

erasing the past
is like burning the pages of your diary
the smoke hurts a while
but
soon you begin to write your own future
another page
another stroke of the pen
that sometimes we admire because it is nicer now
there will always be a difference
until you tear the pages again
crumple them
and let them go

sometimes i think
i need to make paper planes
or perhaps kites

and so i need some strings
some bamboo sticks
for bones