Rhyming poetry:
The waterfall at the end of the stream
I stay, still in the lake, waiting for my day of departure to uptake.
I can feel it in the depths, my promise to leave will soon be kept.
The current pulled strong and I was swept along, Aware of the journey ahead of me.
The minnows, they swam, so light and carefree, but there was a problem in front of me.
For I dreaded the malicious jaws of the gaping waterfall at the end of the stream.
The path was spindly and narrow. The rocks were cutting and sharp. The seaweed passing in front of me looked tired, worn out, and warped.
Still we paddled on and on never pausing for a second, it seemed. For I feared the malicious jaws of the vicious waterfall at the end of the stream.
I seized a plant that had rooted itself in the riverbed of swirling rock. But the plant broke free and startled he into a relentless shock.
But we were sent him and me toward the unnerving jaws of a great monstrosity. Toward the gaping, vicious, open waterfall at the end of the stream
