The stream is gentle,
Flowing, trickling
Down a slight slope
Going toward hope
While ignoring disappointment
The stream is always going
An ever constant flowing
Through the awfully quiet woods
Fairly distant from the cities
Where there are lights all shining pretty
Well that’s what people claim
Though they know it blocks what could be
An even prettier night sky
The river continues on
An ever constant flowing
It’s always keeping going
On and on.
YOU ARE READING
Failed Attempts at Poetry
PoetryThese poems (if you could even call them that) have no sense. They are simply the words of a girl who has tried to put thoughts onto paper.
