To Wish.

Do I know the subtle, the shallow things in life? 

Or is it merely my destiny forever to be seeking 

That which is not ours to see?

The river runs through my backyard 

And it is deep.  

Sometimes I go out when it is dark

And i stare past glossy, rocky waves

And I pick up a shard of porcelain, 

Never again to be immersed

Within a shroud of comfortable sand.  

It comes back home with me instead, sallow breath 

Of mine abrupt in the stillness of night.