Constricted Valley Of Dreams

Poem By O.S. Brooks

Waiting,
Death and her have a purpose.
They sit skipping flat stones
off the murky waters surface

She feels sorry for herself

When the river rises
And breaks up their game of surrender
She'll be looking for her next destination
Hoping its away from the the harsh climb of winter

She's not confident

'Someday' Death proclaims
'You will find your self alone
Waist deep in pitch black river
Trying to catch missed opportunity like craw-fish
Lifting each un-turned stone with a plop'

'Death! ' She cries tears in the wash out

It will not answer
It will not help
It will not listen to her most secret regrets
She's cheated on her lover
And wants it to listen

Yet, it's kind of selfish that way
Only concerned with the here, and the now
Not the pressure of us knowing
That his time awaits around the river's bend

She knows it all too well
Like her father,
That concrete time is a figmented design
And, that the only thing evident in her life was meeting him

Death taught her as a child,
When her aunt commited suicide
That a final farewell is just one unfinished breath away

So, she sits by a bridge carrying souls to the other side
Swinging legs by the twilight shore line
Looking up at a constaint fimilair
Waiting for constellations to die in her mind

Together, they count each new day like shards of broken glass
Struck like a child under tranquil stars
Wondering if life was supposed to be like this
Where time sends life down creeks like rocky boats made of paper
Near the constricted valley of her dream

The bird dies
The clouds fade
The wind chills
It's winter

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