Tue, 07/02/2019 - 21:14 -- A Finch

Below my house, a blissful river trips and falls.

Though faint, I hear its whispers and its calls.

Oh the fool I am, succumbing to it”s spell

I Rush to the water so this desire will dispel.


On the edge of its banks, I often sit, write, and think

Until the sky transforms from blue, to white, to pink.

The river mirrors these colors as the sun sinks west.

Now the evening sun awakes from her peaceful rest


To cast away darkness with her pearly beams 

As moonlight swirls with murky river streams.


All through the night, I think, write, and sit

While the crickets chime and Nightingales fit.

Slowly, clouds drift through the pitch black sky

Except for these, it is the river, the moon, and I.


As pale lunar light evolves into a vibrant sunrise 

Fatigue launches an assault upon my weary eyes.

No other earthly place can equal the river bed 

Where thoughts, stories, and art fill my head;


Where water reflects the colors of the sky;

Where I wish to remain, forever close by.

This poem is about: 
My community


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