RIC S. BASTASA - a memory

my white hair
always speak of you

it is your beauty
that it brags

to my forehead
whose furrows

lead me to a pond
of sweet memories

the ripples there
speak of the rain

and the rain sings
about this pain

the pain shows me
a scar

the scar remembers
the wound


that you inflicted
and i was that man

who believed
that once love existed.

RIC S. BASTASA

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/a-memory-18/