As The River Flows


The river flows by

but doesn’t carry me with it

as I sit solidly on the bank side

watching my reflection fragmenting

and reforming.

It can’t carry away my reflection either,

can only move it around,

destroy and

recreate it

with a bit of a breaking backdrop

which,

on reflection

tells me little about 

where I am,

or who,

or why.

It leaves me behind.

It always will,

unless

I enter and let it 

float me

away.



https://hotelmasticadoreshouse.wordpress.com/2026/02/10/as-the-river-flows-by-lynn-white/

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