The endless river

February 27, 2012
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The five of us were just sitting ducks on that rushing river,
waiting for the nearby creatures to claim us.
Squished into the center of the rubber intertubes,
our backs scream in pain.
Our hands intertwined to avoid separation.

The two men were in front pushing us along the waters
when no current came to our aid,
while the ladies and myself laughed at their struggle.
We hear conversations and laughter from the rustling trees.

As the sun went down, so did our hopes of escaping the never ending river.
It was a full moon, our only light from the darkened skies.
Our imaginations grew wilder with every eerie splash from afar.
The river was ice cold to the touch,
and my only comfort was my aunt’s leg.

We drifted farther and farther away,
losing light when the moon veiled between the trees.
We take turns paddling our way through the treacherous waters,
waiting for a break.
My uncle suggested we stop at a nearby sandy bank,
for we may never get off this endless river.

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