Like the river that flows
And the wind that blows,
It goes on and on.
It waits for no one,
You keep holding on.
Tracing the lines on your face,
Weight that weakens your embrace;
It keeps on sailing,
You’re barely following;
You keep on failing.
It’s such a terrible traitor,
Turn your back some more,
Scratch your head and wonder,
Keeps pulling the rug out from under.
Too late, no more going yonder.
The Anna Chronicles 