That Garde Of Stones.... Poem by RIC BASTASA

on Wednesday afternoon
your visitors from different orientations arrived

all were well composed,
calm and at first very silent,

still feeling what is new
but not yet reacting,

you served coffee, others of course
from the East preferred tea

when all were feeling that sense of
home

you invited all of them from that room
towards another door

which exited to a garden which they in truth
did not expect

a garden of sand and stones and
then you make them all know
why they are all here and
when are they going to leave
what they have to see shall only for the moment
not lasting more than
the blinking of an eye

you can see the disappointment in their faces
all they imagine really are roses

red red roses
and without thorns....