Poetry

Just drifting

I have a little boat

made of brown,

overlapping leaves.

As it floats down the steady, gentle stream,

I lie back

and hook

my legs over the side

so my toes

kiss the cool water.

The movement makes a ripple.

The ripple knocks

against my little boat,

lulling me into a soft doze.

I walk in and out of dreams,

drifting along

enjoying the journey,

unconcerned by where

I might end up.

Just like my little boat,

edging on,

unconcerned,

down the stream.

 

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