I wish my thoughts could swim freely.
Free like a floating leaf on a churning river.
But it is slowed down,
burdened by the wet coat world gifted me.
With no where to go,
the thought drowns slowly as the coat goes heavier.
With no where to run,
it is trapped, chained ,
much like the green trees and wet land,
trapped in a thunderstorm.
With itself, it takes the wet coat.
Take it to the bottom as it sinks
and it holds the coat hard
hoping it never surfaces again.
Hoping it never flows again.