Wishing as always,
Spurting taunts in anger,
Frozen to the past,
The same.
Very much,
A desire to pen a thought,
To be heard,
To be seen,
But never it was,
This way.
These words are the same,
Written over and over again,
Over the last many sunrises,
Sunsets even.
Next to the safe,
That encounter change it path of the flow,
Does it even float,
No one ever to say,
Aiming it with all,
Strange as there is no defined path,
Yet taking one.
Thirsty for a drop of water,
From the river flowing source,
Of what claimed for it,
Taking with it,
All that needs to be.