A river flows in you

 

blue blur bright close up

Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

In case you miss the fragments of your childhood

Don’t tell your mom.

Eat.

Eat beside your notebook.

Sit next to a piano for hours, or days

And create–

the river that flows within you

until you get drunk with words and die a natural death.

Maybe in springtime,

When the trees are plump

And the rabbits have played among the

Lavender fields with the squirrels,

You can run on the grass with much ease

Let your feet fulfill their promise

To the earth that held your

Tiny voice and knee-wounds

At 6 years old.

Allow this gentle river to sink your wounds;

And the scars reminiscent to the days

That came but long forgotten.

Tell your friends how you wished the leaves

To swirl onto a clay pot

That had most of your secrets in the afternoon hidden.

When the sky kissed your back farewell

and the river sang an ode

to a passer-by

that spoke to you all this time.

 

 

 

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