Ode to a Gift

 

A thick solver needle, taking a dive, searching

For a river it can't seem to find.

Probing and poking, pushing away, maybe no

River will be found today.

Oh wait; there is hope, a raindrop of red.

Alas, the great river plunging ahead.

 

Drop grows to trickle,

Trickle to stream.

This river of life,

flowing from me.

 

Trapped in a tunnel, much like a tube,

Turn after turn, groove after groove.

 

Suddenly a shift it's met a great drop,

Like a spiraling waterslide unsure of a stop.

It's reached a halt, a deep pool of red;

Has the mighty river come to an end?

 

Something is changing; it's starting to cool,

Awaiting an opening, out of this pool.

It's fast become sluggish the river has slowed.

Nowhere to turn, no place to go.

 

Time passes slowly; it's starting to fade, Rivers

Weren't meant to be taken this way.

Wait a slight change, it's small but you see,

 an opening is setting this great river free.

 

It turns and it tumbles, racing along,

Finding new meaning, turning weak into strong.

 

The journey uncertain but the river was strong,

It's left the homeland traveling on.

 

 

 

Crystal M. Hooper  age 17,  contact:  c_m_hooper@yahoo.com

Reviews and comments requested

 
Posted 06/02/2008