My mind drifts,
downstream,
to reminisce,
and to predict –
anxious
of what is
to become.
I float
toward this unknown,
waterfalls, lakes, oceans –
new shores to rest upon;
what becomes of me
has little to do
with the stories I tell,
and everything to do
with the decisions I make.
My mind drifts,
and if I could,
I would plant myself
but I can’t find my feet
to ground myself;
so I plant new seeds,
leave myself
to float away,
and begin again
some other day.
Lewis Walddren 