Darkness is a local swimming hole
I glide in and out of it everyday.
Delving about in my art…
exposing bits and pieces of my soul.
And, I flounder in my anger…when I do so.
I account for mistakes like lily pads that have gone astray.
I bargain with hopes and dreams…as though they were in rhythm with the waves.
A dance routine shown to less than a handful.
As stark New Hampshire waters pillage in my depth…I know I must not standstill.
Amazing metaphors, I really enjoyed reading your words
Sometimes we come up for air. Sometimes we don’t.