Our river ran dry,
Refusing to flow.
Then the winter approached,
And filled the river with snow.
Then the snow melted,
And the valley eroded,
From the sky came fire,
And our river exploded.
And out of the fire,
Came a tiny little flame,
That dried out the river,
And it started again.
She was the river
And the snow and the fire
She was the passion
And the heat and desire
The water that gives life
Was the water that drowned me
Floating in the river
No dust, no dirt, to ground me
She took my breath away
In the most literal sense
My heart skipped a beat
And then five, and then ten.
I finally escaped from her white-water rapids
But I cannot forget, won’t regret all that happened
Now I’m out of the water, looking back on those days
And I whisper goodbye to the river
and *wave.
Written for an assignment where we had to use conceit (and extended metaphor)