The Poet Counts Stars and Paddles on the River of Life

By
More by this author
The Poet Counts Stars and Paddles on the River of Life

Midway across the river of life, I stopped rowing.
Life sat down next to me and with a growl snatched
Away my rusty paddle and continued,
Ignoring my painful moan of an unknown sickness.
I will always be rowing forward, Life says, whether you like it or not.
Aimless, the other side of the river seems so far away.
I lay down watching Life, carry on his daunting, troublesome toil.
I glanced up, counting stars, One'Two'and Three, tireless task.
On mutual agreement, we signed with body mind and soul,
But I always fall short as Life was always looking down at me
On my lying, devastated form.
As he continues, I dream,
Aimless dreams, but dreams nonetheless.
Midway across the river of life, Life stopped rowing.
I sat down next to Life and with a satisfied smile snatched
Away my rusty, rusty paddle and continued from there forth,
Ignoring Life's mocking moan of an unknown Death.
I will always be rowing on, I said, whether I like it or not.
I dream,
and I began to hear,
Waves crashing on shores.





Post a Comment

Be the first to comment on this article!

bRealTime banner ad on the left side
Site Feedback