Some rivers race to the sea,
Their banks wide,
their waters free.
Others twist through shadowed lands,
Carving valleys with their hands.
Some trees drink from hidden springs,
Their leaves catch light that fortune brings.
Others grow where stones are laid,
Roots entwined in soil self-made.
Some winds blow with cruel intent,
With gusts that sting, to make the slow breeze repent.
Still, every stream and every tree
Grows in time, as it should be.
Not by another’s measured pace,
But by the quiet of its space.
Find joy in your own flow,
Tend the roots you’ve made and know
What blooms in time will always show.
© January 12, 2026
Julette Prayogg
Loreen Herasingh Prayogg
Inspired by observations of people’s actions. Full use was made of Poetic Devices to camouflage people’s personalities and diversities.