Old River

Old River

It flows down in the valley its flow never ends.
A winding path over ripples and around bends.
Between banks the current is always on the go,
It continues on and toward the North it flows.


Each year it gets a little wider and deeper.
My old fishing spot banks get much steeper.
As a boy I walked on the sand at the ripples.
The sand has gone only rocks are in middle.


I would go swimming, but I had to wear shoes.
If I waded in it today I'd better wear some boots.
Still the old river flows like it did way back then.
Its surroundings will never be the same again.


Only its waters flow is left of my old friend.
I'll ponder my sweet thoughts of it back then.
Think of the joy and seclusion it would lend.
Always on the go for its flow will never end.


I would love to go back to see it rolling again.
It bring back memories of when I was a kid.
Day dreaming on its banks waiting for a bite.
My eyes glued to the fishing poles day or night

BY: Kings

© Copyright 2002 Kings (UN: piewhackett1 at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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