I sat at the creek
that bled to the stream.
You always said it kept you sane.
I walked around
to the little make-shift waterfall.
The little pool of water made me sigh.
I walked back to the main pond.
It was still the same as we left it.
The catfish at opposing ends of the geese,
ducklings walking close,
water so dirty, you couldn't even see your face.
Why did we go here?
What made it so important?
I'm rather indifferent to it's being.
I'll walk back to the bleeding creek,
I won't find you here.
And I might be pushing past that,
but I've got new lines to break.
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Your poetry inspires me. Today my sister asked me, "Who makes you think the most?" I said you did. Your blog really makes me think about your inspiration, your life, and it makes me think about what I can do differently in my life to hold on to what I really care about. Seriouisly, bravo.
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