i have had
that round faced
stone in
my hand

i felt its potential
for perfect
roundness

it was smooth and it
could make
a difference

it could be something
greater
beyond itself
beyond the concealment
of my hand

i see time shrinking
like a drying bubble
of rain
on the ground

and so i threw the stone
away

no one knew it
i was not that interested really
about potentials
or about
perfection

time shrank
what is the use of hope?

RIC S. BASTASA

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/when-time-shrinks/