The water wilderness yearns to be wild, no more.
The streets: gone
once flooded with us,
not the stream
The dam: gone
once a force against,
turns to swim with the current
My rock at the edge of bank: gone, gone, and gone again
once my stepping, sitting, skipping stone
I grew alongside
While rocks don't grow they age
Not even a footstep
Could rupture these rapids.
Posted in response to the challenge Flood.
Comments
Log in or register to post comments.