it didn’t begin as quicksand

nor, quite, a stroll

there was a path

if a road less traveled

as non-conformists

are wont to do


she could see herself

there, on the other side

she looked safe and whole


the rains began in drizzle

slow, insidious

ground muddied gradually

the journey was in progress

it seemed only

a few steps more


head down, sheltering

she slogged doggedly on

drips and drops

morphed to splashing slop

trail increasingly obscured


whooshing rush

the ambiance

slips and trips

and falls


she looked up, bewildered

shore was there

no more



28 thoughts on “Floundered

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