Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Jul 2015
We stand on the banks
Of the shallow water.
A consistent flow
Of unchanging speed,
Insipid hues
Rendering it colourless,
The cloying air
Of uniformity
Has us clawing
At our throats
Bringing useless
Tears to our eyes.
The rocks,
The curves,
The white water,
The interruptions,
are what make it sweet once more.
niamh
Written by
niamh  Ireland
(Ireland)   
Please log in to view and add comments on poems