The
river days still flow there, in
youthful memory,
And
sunlight flickers gently on
ripples, clear and
slight;
Then down beyond the
sandbank, spills
pure into the sea,
Which claims the
drops with a dark
delight.
Flowers are ever
fragrant and grass is
freshest here,
Where
Nature's
regal beauty is
something known to few;
But slowly, clouds are
creeping to
skies of always-clear:
They form above as I drink the
dew.
It has been many years now, since I lay by the
stream
And heard the
subtle humming of each
jade dragonfly;
Boys
dangling their
toes in, and watching
fishes teem,
Stared silently as the cars passed by.
Those days are in the
past, as I cannot find a way
To
caper down bright
hillsides and in the river
wade;
I
slouch now in my
office, with walls of
sullen grey,
Counting the hours of the
life I've made.
A NightWriter original