Just Drifting Poem by John Yaws

I always wondered just how life would be-
If I were but some driftwood, on the sea.
With naught to do but drift from shore to shore,
With each new tide I'd only drift some more.

No structure to confine me, none at all-
Nor roof of circumstance to cast a pall.
No place where I would ever need to be,
I'd drift alone with only memory.

There is something comforting about the sea-
That seems to smooth those ragged parts of me.
I love to handle driftwood smoothly worn-
No way to tell how badly it was torn.

These wounds of mine could use it's ministry-
Oh, how I long it's healing work to see.
I've no desire to rot upon some shore,
I want to drift and dream forevermore.