Monday, September 5, 2011

Last Night of Freedom begins tomorrow. It's weird to think that tomorrow is the day I consider the start of the year. Anyway, never a better time for poetry than a time with a mixture of trepidation and anticipation.

Starring through the rain
Drops on the pavement
Splash, plop
Each drop encasing a memory
Enough fall to the ground
And a small river forms
Thoughts blend together
Many different ideas move along
Forming a single stream of consciousness
You sit down
Peer into individual drops
See reflections of time
Long ago
Suddenly a new spout opens
Same water, different direction
New river flows
Winds in and out of the old
Swallows it up and redirects

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