Upstream

That little boy
with chapped lips
and red cheeks.
He walks and walks
against the Upstream.

But determination his soother.
He sees the people passing by
Busy and rushing, but he slow
and steady as to go by.

He stops to look back,
See how far he has come.
An arm, a single arm, grabs him into the upstream.
He is done, his purpose
is gone.
But he is Wrong.