I am a stick adrift the rapids of the Nechako River
Amongst the muddy water i sit
Feeling the late April breeze against my skin
Sounds of the city in the distance but it doesn't matter here
Here I am free
I am free to behave without a care in the world or a task at hand
I'm free to exist in my own world
I am free to be myself without the watchful eye of a judging glare
With a chill against my back
I shiver
But the bone chilling breeze reminds me I'm still alive
Even with the world with the despair that it has
This is still a place to live and still a place worth living in
Within the cold I swear I hear singing
Singing of my soul feeling free
I am one of the many sticks cast drift on the Nechacho River
Surrounded by cold and muddy water of winter's thaw
Waving at cottonwoods and willows and evergreens as I pass
I know I'm on to better and brighter things
I'm on to a world of my own
Where I can be
Happy
Reality scoops me up from the river and sits me on the bank
I am surrounded by a couple of cheap notebooks and some pens that only half work
A bottle of iced tea sits at my side
And my tattered grey toque in my pink cold hands
Cottonwood sap fills my nose with a bitter sweetness
And it holds me here like it doesn't want me to leave
I watch the stick pass in the rippling water
It without a destination
And I only dream that in the chaotic world that I have to live and function in
That I would trade one more moment to be that drifting stick in the Nechako River
YOU ARE READING
Poetry Book 3
Poetrythird poem collection. they aren't in any particular order or anything like that, and after 100, there will always be a new one. if you've been here a while, I'm sure you know the drill. now, about the cover. it was a random Thursday, and an old fri...
