#WritcoPoemPrompt6
The river that flows down the hill,
Is never able to be a moment still,
The rocks and pebbles at it's edge,
Lie as steady as the dead,
The blowing zephyr carrying fragrance of his memories,
Accompanying me to do face of with stress and worries,
Soul crying out loud in pain,
His love is still rushing into my vein,
Piece of perfection I am begging from my life,
But, every new day I am blessed with new strife...