White, Cold, Water
I felt the cold of icy, white water
come flowing over as it pulled me down.
I saw my hand reaching out of the water
and grab a branch hanging low to the ground.
Flow white water.
Flow over me.
Take me down ,
then, out to the sea.
I heard you calling as I went running.
I should have waited by the streetlamp post.
But, in the moonlight, I went hunting.
Breath blowing white, like a ghost.
Flow white water.
Flow over me.
Take me down,
Then, out to the sea.
Into the calm and clear,
you ran, coming through the mists.
I can feel you near.
Straining to hear through the waters hiss.
The dogwoods on the banks
Glowing in the gloom.
On every naked branch,
a beautiful white bloom.
Flow white water.
Flow over me.
Take me down.
Then, out to the sea.
I see you running in the tall wild grasses.
Your body floating in the frosty air.
Young and free, coming to the river rapids.
Your hands, now reaching , yelling that you care.
Flow white water, flow.
Right on by.
Flow white water, flow.
Leave me high and dry.
Your there holding and cuddling me.
Whispering sweet nothings in my ear.
Doing your best to try and reach me.
Suddenly, I felt no fear.
Why I ran, had now departed.
I had no clue to why it was.
I know you are where my heart is.
Snug and warm and loved.
————————————————R. W. Johnson—–(2011)