I no longer want to be a rock,
Parting waves from the sea,
Beating my head against the wash,
Overrun and ripped from sight
By the incoming tide.
Shriveling, cracking, chipping
From the erosion which passes over time.
Much better the life of a leaf,
Spinning helicopter helix-like,
Cascading from a tree, descending free.
Touching gently on the wake of the river,
Carried along its surface, waves a swirl.
Turning in the turmoil of flow.
YOU ARE READING
My Papi's Mid-life Crisis
RandomI'm forty two and in danger of falling through the cracks of mediocrity; also known as a midlife crisis. I don't drive, so I can't buy a fancy car to fix it. I love my wife, so I can't have an affair with another woman. This book is part of my attem...
