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.