A poem I wrote at the writing group’s last meeting, looking at life and rivers.
The river of life has an uneven flow,
Sometimes deathly calm,
Sometimes violently rough.
I may find myself bilious at the slightest movement
Or cling to the world for a dangerous ride.
Every fork in the waters brings a vital decision,
So many wrong already.
I am far from the place I was looking for
I try to take the right way every time now,
To try and return,
Further down the river that I should be living on.