Anna Washburn

Waiting like ramblings of a life gone by,
dark roses surround the bright mind.
Taking a wrong turn on a dark road,
a man either retreats to the comfortable
or finds himself submerged in a river,
with no desire to reach the surface.
The dream comes; almost grasping
that flexible limb, the safety line.
Then disappears just as your eyes
begin to recreate the new form
of life as we see it.

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