I Can Survive
My feelings, on the crest of each wave,
a fresh beginning washes ashore,
then ebbs away
before becoming a “thing”.
A dream rides each falling leaf,
drops to die in the sun,
portraying the tree
as the murderer.
Dandelion fluff scatters seeds
of memories across the air
and ending – well, nowhere,
blaming the breathy gusts.
If only I could ride the reddening
rivulets to lakes frozen in time,
those that hold my dreams and hopes
before melting into nothingness.
Then, and only, should I learn
the life that beats to break the hold
is always bound with hope.
If only I can survive.
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