Past the flowers
Drifting with thoughts along the rivers flow,
getting them a little wet before letting go.
The ideas and thoughts about the crashed waves whites,
moving down the river floating, spilling to a lakes site.
They are drowning to the written side of thought,
paper and the pens were left at my favorite writing spot.
Drifting past the stories to papers solid form,
words flowing from a hidden distant storm.
Swimming, thinking, I\'m looking in a drinks view,
spilt and moving away from my time with you.
Unable I am to remain dry with just dipped toes,
waste deep splashing until each word shows.
I\'m looking up at the distant hills rugged side,
river flowing loudly past the flowers where you died.
I\'m drifting to find a drowning rhythms dampened flow,
sitting, I\'m writing a story for your ghost to know.