I stand on the bridge
And look down at My River,
But where is it?
All I see is a lake
Extending from the sides
Where My River flowed.
The green park
Where the children played,
Where the dogs ran free,
And lovers walked hand in hand
Now covered in this mud brown water.
The swans, ducks and geese confused,
Nowhere for them to just sit and look,
But having to fight the wrath of the water,
As it speeds through their lives,
And mine.
The anger speeding under me
Like an express train!
Where are the bushes,
Beside which I would sit
And contemplate my world?
But through all this anger
Shown by My River
I know that that anger will subside,
And My River will be there again,
Flowing gently through my life,
Taking me once more,
On Life’s journey.
-
Author:
Goldfinch60 (Pseudonym) (
Online) - Published: December 8th, 2023 02:14
- Comment from author about the poem: It's been raining!
- Category: Reflection
- Views: 12
Online)
Comments4
Erm, was the rain wet? It usually is. (a corny joke from some comedy film). lol.
Yes but skin is waterproof.
Andy
Was the rain wetter, or not so wet, centuries ago? You and I should remember. lol.
In the meantime, where I am, temperatures hover around 40 something degrees centigrade......
I just could not stand that Dave, I start moaning when it gets above 15.
Andy
There' your poem topic for tomorrow, Andy......(Please don't mention my name - I'm shy and retiring .....)
Excellent work.
Thank you Thomas, much appreciated.
Andy
Hi Goldfinch
We have seen an awful lot of raging waters in the last month. It's nice to think there will be a time when all the rushing turns to a gentle flow again. Well written
Phil
So true Phil, thank you for your kind words.
Andy
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