Driftwood

The blue hills rolled down embracing the verdant slopes in rhythmic dance, to the cradle of the humming hamlet where my childhood home was once. With formless flotilla of cloud clumps, floating free in seamless cerulean sky, my teenage exuberance soared high with the colorful kites I loved to fly. The cascading brook of aqua pearls, flowed down in flamboyant grandeur, girdling our house in a latticed loop of horse-shoe contoured meander. My rainbow tinged paper boats glided on the curling current’s rippling trail, on these to distant shore of dreamland I felt entranced my fervent fantasy sail. When the storm surged from nowhere, the kites flew away, and the boats sank, an uprooted tree, I turned to driftwood, the boats I search for, stuck at river bank. Written : August 7, 2020 June 21, 2022 Contest : 2022 Poetry Marathon Mile 4 Sponsored by : Mark Toney