In The Morning Poem by RIC BASTASA
In The Morning
in the morning
the sounds of the day keep coming
the motors of
mankind
the birds on the
trees on the other hand
what murmur
is there
for existentialism
what dismay is there
for the dusty roads
at noon
where is despair: ?
you raise your hand on your brow
you keep looking
you insist
about its reality
ah, it is not there
and crazy you
you miss it.
Saturday, July 24, 2010
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5/7/2024 10:07:13 AM # 1.0.0.1119
