The puddle

I am aching to be good.

not great--

that dream slipped

from my sweaty palms

and silent psalms 

long long ago.

I just want to take up space,

to matter. 

but today,

tomorrow,

and the next,

I am simply a shallow pool of water.

I am not a raging river,

nor a graceful koi pond--

I am a puddle 

soon to be all dried up

when anything shines too bright near me.