i always come back <br />to your arms <br /> <br />i am not happy <br />but i have no choice <br /> <br />your arms are cactus <br />but i do not mind <br /> <br />i make most of what <br />imagination can offer <br /> <br />there will be sun <br />where there is none <br /> <br />i make rain <br />i also unmake them <br /> <br />everything are sands <br />in my hands <br /> <br />i open my fingers <br />as dams <br /> <br />sands trickle <br />waters pour <br /> <br />rivers form themselves <br />i make a mouth <br /> <br />where they can find <br />rest and be lost in the sea <br /> <br />this is what imagination is all about <br />one word: survival.<br /><br />RIC S. BASTASA<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/old-poetry-2/
