Poetry in Spoken Word by Tracy Kocsis - HTML preview

EBB AND FLOW

Every day, more of the same

Slowly, my spirit drifts away.

I ebb and I sway

Down this rocky river of loneliness-

Until I reach the still soft willow trees.

All the creatures of the meadows,

They cast their eyes upon me.

Is she alive or dead?

Is she catatonic, can she see?

I play mute for the moment,

I revel in this quiet bliss.

I know I can’t stay like this,

But it was nice to play the part.