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What I have in my hands

What I have in my hands
Are few petals

Of flowers in different colors
Some pure white, without odors

What I have in my hands too
Are little birds with some dreams

Wanting to fly to heights
Wanting to erase frights

What I have are some things plain
Something direct nothing to explain

Call them an essay or prologue to a play
No metaphors inserted nothing to display

Wisdom plain and simple
A tribute to a child’s dimple

There is no complication
There is no sophistication

Who makes them a poem is you
What makes them alive is you too

There is no other
There is no bother

There is no other who gives them a feel
Except you and one long electrical eel

What I have in my hands are all yours
They are not mine they are free they are all for free

They are meant to be
To be free for you

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Added by Poetry Lover
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