Checking Love
when you arrive at night
i am buried in my heap of paper works
still,
when i go to bed because it is too late
you iron
clothes and sort what is clean
from what is dirty,
i am buried in sleep and you wake up
in the middle of this darkness
to see if there are birds flying in the horizon of trees
if stars are alive if
they still glitter.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
No comments until now.