Flowing down a beautiful stream,
Lifting my hands to the sun,
The water drops shine blue.
Diving to the river bed,
Picking stones I recall from the past,
Playing with the fishes,
Each having a face so familiar,
I smile.
A place I seem to have forgotten,
The place where I find myself forgiven.
Lies were told here, and so were truths.
Many believed, some refused.
Each fall, each cut, each scrap, each slap
Made this river flow faster, in fact.
Never-ending were my tears then;
Who could have imagined that they were kept here?
YOU ARE READING
Points in Time
PoetrySnapshots of life's journey A collection of moments that define us. Points in Time is my poetic exploration of love, loss, hope, growth, resilience and self-discovery
