The Ice On The River
8 years ago Leighest 0
Most of the time, I feel my feet slipping
and I know it’s probably because of the ice.
Will the soles of my shoes ever suffice to cling
to the surfaces of my life?
Some of the time, I wish the sun would thaw the river
before I get the chance to appreciate the glittering
of a frozen body of water in the hours before dawn.
Yesterday I went for a run and as the icy air punctured
the pulsating walls of my pink lungs I wondered where
my feet were taking me. There has to be a “there”
way out somewhere where the ice doesn’t hurt when I fall.
Today I made a phone call and regretted the fact I told him
about my fading footprints. Where do they lead to?
Where did they come from?
At midnight I search and fail to find the mystical
rhyme which will piece together all of my fragmented reasons.
A mile down the river I find no peace of mind but I still go back to
The sun glints off the captured eddies of the water in a certain way
which makes me smile.
Tomorrow I will not know the trajectory of my ramblings
and the next day I will not have new shoes.
But Friday night will come and I will know why I search
and why finding is irrelevant.