She Walks in the Creek Bed

One of my college friends wrote a poem about me for my 21st birthday. She said it captured my personality. I was surprised, because I had never told her that a nearby creek was the one place I felt safe as a child. 

She Walks in the Creek Bed

I looked down into the creek bed and saw her
Her with the flowers in her baskets, that she’d saved from the rocks
Her with the daisies in her eyes, that she’d saved from the current’s knocks

And you can’t see where she’s been brought down
And thrown to the ground
Because the water swallows splashes to keep singing
And so does she

And she’s beautiful, the girl with the flowers in her baskets
She’s beautiful, the girl without anything at all
Not because she walks in the creek bed
But because she’s coming out