A Whim.... Poem by RIC BASTASA

after a few years
in this nook of your world
you learn a language

that you only speak its
interrogatives keep on asking
and you answer with some uncommon
declarations

soon you will understand that the
subject had always been you
the verb is silent and compassionate

you forget some descriptions
it is unlikely but you have become
another contentment within you

you talk to yourself in this world
without stars and moons and suns
the books keep an eye on you
their hands ready to shake yours

they wait until you become like
one of its pages
until you become a mere idea
or simply just another whim
whimpering for another day....