The Sands That Spill From My Fingers Poem by RIC BASTASA

so there you are again
why do you come inside my room
at the hour when i am so empty
and needy of
affection

you tease me with that smile
and you put your finger
between your lips and
show your tongue like a bud
of a very red rose

i am amazed and ready like i am
a water escaping from
the hold of this dam

you laugh and then you go outside the door
without even closing it

i have learned a lot from this
and i will not follow

you are simply one of the grains of sands
spilling from the hold of my fingers
i watch and then
i let them all go.