The Old Man Who Comes Back To His Old Hometown Poem by RIC BASTASA

The Old Man Who Comes Back To His Old Hometown

Rating: 5.0


the days indeed pass by swiftly
the seasons are like the flaps of a bird's wing

our moments are like the movements of billiard balls
we hear sounds of collisions and then some colors are gone

the boy that mother coddled before
died a few years back before growing his fingernails

mother shrunk like a deflated balloon
and what is left is her scent of milk

the sound of the cradle turns into a creak of an
old door
the footsteps of Papa on that pavement
are like the steps on the sand dunes easily blown by the winds
of changing times

when you come back to a previous place
the faces that meet you give you the blank looks

not even quizzical for no one knows you or any member of your family
your heart is an empty home looking for anyone

who can remember the sounds of children
who can identify the games that once were played under the moon

but there is no one there anymore and so you take the bus
heading to the new place of your existence

you are like an old woman gathering the white cloth and the needle and
the colored threads

beginning another design for another embroidery
and mo matter how sweet are the memories they have to take their exits

giving chance to the incoming ones which to your mind
are not really that exciting anymore

COMMENTS OF THE POEM
READ THIS POEM IN OTHER LANGUAGES
RIC BASTASA

RIC BASTASA

Philippines
Close
Error Success