As clear as the eyes allow you to see,
The water, moving from one end,
Rippling its essense, down the stream.

I sit on a brick wall by its clearest,
Most moving part.
Looking to my left, i see a cut off where
The cry of this body seems to start.

Looking to my right, i see the slow down
Of the waves, seizing their action,
Before encumbering stagnation.

Though it could just be my vantage point,
And way the light plays mirror
To smoke the surface.

All i know is that the dead leaves
From hanging trees, let go,
Then get carried away.

What happens beyond the bank is
Withdrawn from my account.



© Haiych