I fear most the drift
washed away without design
left alone to chance
I loathe most the drift
bowing to the swells of fate
soul’s white flag to chance
I miss most the drift
freed of any crooked stokes
not my fault but chance
Click here for more impressions…


5 comments
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May 26, 2010 at 12:18 am
Dances With Loons
Darn that drift…perfect photo! Loved the thought-provoking poem too. Thanks.
May 26, 2010 at 8:14 pm
Write Girl
This is a beautiful poem and so full of the emotions and feelings we all battle with. I love the imagery you’ve created here and the photo is perfect.
May 26, 2010 at 10:14 pm
lucychili
love the drift =)
May 26, 2010 at 10:35 pm
Tumblewords
A lovely and provocative poem!
May 29, 2010 at 7:24 pm
SandyCarlson
I wonder sometimes how it will be once the white flag is received. The anticipation is deadly.