The Shadows, The Seasons, And The Fickle Minds.... Poem by RIC BASTASA

some people
are always prepared
for departures

of the loved one.
the sound sleep at night
tells the story of
a beautiful acceptance
that grace
which has arrived like
sunlight on the window pane
that after all,
there is no use of this and
that,
that that memory is
another figurine bought to be
placed in the nook
as we cannot really watch it
all day in our lives,

people move away, and that is
a fact,
and here you are doing some
cleaning of the house,

mowing the garden
feeding the birds,
watching the flowers
blooming,

contented with what you are
and just to be with yourself
at home, yes, you, as your home
for good

not dependent on someone
whose mind is as fickle as the changing
seasons of the place,

shadows that are slaves of light
and to bodies where they must
all belong.