Inch by Inch,
the river
follows the groove
of my existence.
Sharp enough
to slice a wrist,
it moves along
the beaten path.
I'm mesmorized
by the curves
of the water,
curious,
my reflection
tells me all
I need to know.
Years of debris
Sinks to the bottom,
swirls through the current,
covers the lid.
The baggage is everywhere,
steadfast and enduring.
Reminding me of
all that's been lost
along the way.
I know this pattern
by heart,
exhausted,
from the lonely trip,
tedious as it is.
Here and there,
what and if,
has and been,
never will be again.
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