Wood Grain
I want to be standing on the end of a dock on a still lake,
A dock I watched my dog run off of only to sink like a stone.
I want to stand there, toes on the edge,
And dive into crystal clear solitude.
But when I look over my shoulder,
There are a hundred people and responsibilities personified,
Decisions I’ve made and questioned turned into demanding strangers,
Charging up to me,
Foaming at the mouth.
And there I am frozen.
Even my imagination is broken.
Photo Credit Gerry Church. Willow Lake, Prescott, AZ
The Nerdy Foodie 