It's Still Life

Roll On

After the icicles thawed,
and damp left the basement
through open windows,
I remember wondering

what happened to winter,
I’ve no clear memories of it.

Sometimes I’m like a stream,
not knowing where I’ve come from
or where I’m going. I just
roll on.

Quadrille for dVerse Poets, including the word ‘stream‘. Photo by Fabrice Villard on Unsplash . Shared with #APoemADay on Twitter   ©Misky 2021 (note: This is true, unlike most of what I write, which is pure fiction or embellished fact. I think it’s because #1. during 18-months of lockdown, every day’s been the same, nothing to distinguish one from the other, and #2. possibly age.)