Loss of life direction

Is inevitable.

I swim round and round

In circles that are

Never decreasing.

A memory flickers,

Of something better;

Different?

 

I dream…do fish dream?

Of floating

Like driftwood.

On tides that ebb and flow

Carried on the current

To anywhere;

Somewhere beyond

what is.

 

By Fiona Lochhead   April 2012

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