Wasting The Hours - Poem by RIC S. BASTASA

got some hours on my hand
and i spill them all like water dripping
i am not wet
i get so hot beside you despite the spill
despite the wasted hours
i don't regret
spending time with you in a place
as far
like mirage
like an illusion of time and space
denying us
what truth lies in the metaphors of light
and shadows
veils and drapes and grassy paths

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Poem Submitted: Sunday, September 26, 2010

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