Nervous Young Stallions

by alafoel

Braeburn's Poem (unfinished pt. i)

Reflection ripples in river’s tide,
Pebbles to small and vanish:
Make their way, as could I,
One thousand years of river’s tide.

To steady my eyes, my eyes staring back at me -
My eyes staring back at me - ripples in river’s tide.
And the steadiness of the shore is waned,
Waned as my figure drips and dives.
Which side of the water am I?

In need, an anchor.
A rock to stand on, a wing to glide.
A heart to soar.
A heart too sore.

The reflection is gone.

One thousand years of river’s tide: