Ask Me

As previously mentioned, I'm taking a writing workshop at North Carolina State University. My first class is poetry, which I've discovered is probably not my area of expertise. The class is brilliant, and every time someone reads a poem, it kind of sort of makes me want to ditch my notebook, Ginny Weasley possessed by Tom Riddle style, in an abandoned girl's lavatory, only Moaning Myrtle wouldn't find it and give it to Harry and Ron and what have you.
But, I'm in it, and I'm working on improving.
We have fun prompts, which the other day was one in which we were given various first lines from poems, and I chose the excerpt from "Ask Me" by William Stafford. I didn't see the piece in its entirety until after I finished, but this is what I came up with:

Sometime when the river is ice ask me

What it is like to wait for you,

As cold and stubborn

And resolute and arbitrary,

And reckless, 

And just plain stupid

As frozen water.

In response I will laugh

And you will melt,

Same way you always do. 

And your lukewarm banks will nourish

Fresh birthed daffodils. 

And I will feel victorious at having broke you down.

But then I realize the patch of river where I stood

Is lost

And so, I continue to drown. 

I think I love you.