Time Spent, , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , Poem by RIC BASTASA

lull of a hammock,
arms free, thoughts rest on hair like
petals, a book is set aside, beside
an eyeglass,
another day shuts itself,
nothing in particular is accomplished,
you are growing seeds of silence
amidst the bustle of the season,
you remember a child crawling
in bed, and then grows its strong legs
to walk alone on the floor,
as mother watches as father hears
the first sound of youth,
this is the same house
still alive and so old,
with nothing to boast.