Thanks for popping by, Sarah! Onwards, indeed!
Here's a masterpiece (LOL just kidding...I just wrote it and it needs major work) *snort*
The Gazebo on the Riverbank
When people aren’t gathered here, doing drugs
or drinking, we stop our bikes. I sit on the bench
out of the sun, as my daughter stays perched
on her bikeseat, one foot on pedal, one tiptoeing
the gravel. We take in the breeze and watch
the river lengthen and widen
as she tells me the latest tea. Her stories
are less and less about things she wants
and things she wants to do, like panda onesies
and constant gymnastics, and more and more
about her river of relationships as she navigates
the flood waters of her teenage years.
I point out that while the river
will always rise and change the landscape
for a while and wash away the debris,
that all these birch and poplar trees around us
somehow don’t die, but thrive
and the willow trees will continue to weep
and that, despite the river’s endless efforts,
sandbars don’t succumb to the mountains.
She nods and rolls her eyes because she thinks
I’m changing the subject, and we ride on.
It is possible that poetry is possible but not my poetry. - Eugene Oshtashevsky
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Originally Posted by lauriene
