My oars he used to be
with him pulling me
through the prattling brook that defined me
We used to meet
somewhere along the way..
Our flow in unison
What an inseparable motion we used to be!
Now the lull that he has become
no more oars he can provide
I am left floating alone
wondering if there is any respite…
P.S. I recently used this image on my poem Healing Rain but I felt it went very well with this one too.