See the little city
Shining on its wooden raft
While it drifts, turning
And riding the waves,
The stream decides
Where it goes, whether
It lives, it dies.
See the little people
Living in little homes,
Rocking in time, bobbing
And lurching on swells.
The river chooses
What they do, whether
They live, they die.
See the big black river
Dancing o'er the riverbed
Dotted with twinkling
Driftwood, but whole
With shining stars,
The little people
In their little cities
Living unknown to the river;
And the river carves
Its path through the sky
But it knows the people.
It loves them.
YOU ARE READING
Higher Education
PoetryThere comes a point in every person's life where they must move on. I'm trying...by God I'm trying. And this is how I try. By moving on and moving out...to higher education. This is my third collection of poetry, each piece written when my mind and...
