9: Rivers

Rivers

The two rivers flow gently

But they begin to rush.

 

I'm watching them

Yell and scream,

 

Thrash, and kick,

Hurt, and ache.

 

The four flowers that rest

at their sides begin to wilt,

 

begin to loose their hope,

as well as their confidence.

 

They hope for the rivers

to calm and become still.

 

I am the third flower 

of those four,

 

And i am waiting, 

waiting ever so patiently 

 

for them to calm,

as i wilt ever so slowly.