Healing
keep on rubbing the drops
of time
in your wound
to completely heal yourself
massage slowly
the bruises of your sadness
with its fingers
until they
disappear
just like
your face
slowly dissolving
in the canvass of
the wind
the phisophers are
right
the hands of
time
are the true
healers
of our
wounded
hearts
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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