I was back with My River,
Walking beside it on this cold drab day,
But it was with me,
Its cloudy green surface looking at me,
Old friends travelling together.
I then saw him sitting on a bench,
A friend from the past
Who I shared memories with,
Memories of poetry.
I sat with him and we talked
Talked of many poets
And the joy they brought us.
I looked across My River
And saw the cemetery,
Saw where he lived
As I remembered the day
When I read for him that time,
That one final time as he was laid to rest
And am so sure that he remembers,
Remembers Adlesdrop.
I still see him
As I walk with My River,
When he joins me in my thoughts.