PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

Through the rivers creek still flowing the thoughts of my own head.

Leaving my patiences and my worries to wallow just outside of the sandy bed.

I feel the age of the land and the salt of the air on my skin.

Though still young my body my mind ages with anxieties.

My hand reflecting the lay of the land,

Similar to the stones from before time, 

And my weak bones that twinge as I walk.

In contrast no longer by myself, 

The river dries and the sandy shore becomes mud.

My body no longer connected to the land, the salt dissipates to the sea.

With no more differences my brain and mind fall into a harmony.

Though my hand never changes, 

reminding me of the only place I'll never know.

My bones still ache as I rest.

Some days I wish the river flood,

To bring a peace at last to come forth a rest at once.

Other days I float by in suspension,

Opposing the amity and disarray. 

But above all I still find the time to appreciate what I know is certain.