sit by the river

Sit By the River


The dripping tap, ticking clock, the long nights
when unwanted memories surface on gloomy
waters, and my past creeps nearer and future
hides in a Saragossa mist, together they push
me nearer a non existence. Sad morning light,
rain falls like an old man’s tears when all ships
have sailed and he is stranded on the island he
shares with snakes and scorpions knowing they
will soon eat him. Driftwood in the sea of life,
I never was a master of my destiny, but I can do
a last brave thing, walk into the Savannah night
and eaten by lions or, with my luck, wolfed by
hooting hyenas, so I will stay where I’m, my
last act of cowardice, sit by the river and wait.