What I Have In My Hands Poem by RIC BASTASA

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