On the placid river,
a boat;
of tattered tin,
leaves swirls of water brewing;
gently within.
the creaking of;
the rusty hull,
and the faint murmur,
of the water;
murky and dull.
the robin;
and its daybreak monotone,
obscure the sodden;
iron-grey waters,
the frightening face,
of the river not yet;
caressed by sun's embrace.
Offline)
Comments2
It cast it's spell....
thanks a lot, you made my day!!
The sun's caress will son be there and bring light to the river and all life.
Andy
I hope so too!!
To be able to comment and rate this poem, you must be registered. Register here or if you are already registered, login here.