at dawn i feel you <br />touch my hands <br />i do not think now <br />of roses in springtime <br />i do not have <br />thoughts like a river <br />i am caught <br />in this quagmire of <br />other priorities <br /> <br />myself above all <br />wanting something <br />new and strange <br /> <br />in the morning <br />you tell me that the <br />roses in the garden <br />all wilted <br /> <br />i must not be dreaming <br />of death.<br /><br />RIC S. BASTASA<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/a-change-of-priority/
