A Quaint dream: Words and thoughts, passages of prose, like a faint passing dream from my recent trip. Part Sixteen.

I guess I must have seen another rock filled valley or maybe it was the same one, because I wrote this.

 

PART SIXTEEN>

…I stand in a bed of rocks, grey and flat, barely a trickle of water slipping past.  I can feel the rushing water washing my ankles clean.  I can feel the dirt disappear and the current tugs me down.  This used to be a river.  It is no more… 

 

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s