The driftwood floats, down toward the rocky slopes
Without a care in the world.
"I can't be bothered by these jagged rocks now,
In this cool water where I enjoy my ride.
Besides, there's still time to turn this around,
If I could just go against the tide.
What a life this is being driftwood,
Where I go next is anybody's guess.
So I smile like nothing's the matter,
Not knowing how to get out of this mess."
But the rapids are swift as I look toward the cliff.
Disbelief is the state I am in.
With no means of stopping, no place to get off,
I ask for a miracle I don't deserve.
Then in the silence, alone in the stream,
There is hope just around the corner.
Copyright © 2009 Marla Deaton