Swamps

Swamps

By McCaden McClure

I love the terrain of their face,
The canyon of their smile,
And the way their hills turn to valleys.
If rain flooded their skin would it change?
Would their face transform in a mudslide?
And what about a storm?
Would their face become a swamp?
Soaked in tears,
Soft in all the strangest places.
And I fear that swamp,
I love that swamp,
I want to sink into that swamp.

Once I was chasing lights in a bog.
As I splashed around in the water
A will-o-the-wisp led me into the fog.
Searching for something, anything,
A sign that the flame I saw was real
And not a mirage.
But instead I came to solid ground.
I found them,
The hills of their face,
And I felt safe again.
I love the terrain of their face,
But if rain flooded their skin would it change?