..At This Hour... Poem by RIC BASTASA
..At This Hour...
all the nerves
meet, and they all entangle,
in such a mess,
the little boy
watching intently
cannot find which is
the beginning and
the end of these
nerve threads
it is dreaming of a kite
one summer
where it can fly and run
and fly again
on those green fields under
blue skies....
meanwhile the nerves
are at war with each other
not remembering that they
are all those roots
coming from the same tree
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Delivering Poems Around The World
Poems are the property of their respective owners. All information has been reproduced here for educational and informational purposes to benefit site visitors, and is provided at no charge...
4/25/2024 2:29:14 PM # 1.0.0.1119
