untitled poem (29/07/21)

Drag me onto the muddy banks
where the flowers sprout desperately, all pink
A death dying to be alive 
The flowers watch the river run,
the bodies that jump in to swim, to play. 
To make love on the knoll
Grasping flowers from the soil, 
ripping them from growth, 
they lay there discarded. 
Berries crushed into palms
Stained a dark shade of crimson 
My heart floats in that water 
Along with the fallen fruit
And the memories of hopeful youth