The River

A poem about the beauty of the river and the journey of its life.

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1. The River...

Climbing over the toys which lay dejectedly in his path,

He continues to aimlessly advance,

Continuing to nuisance all his neighbours,

 

Cries like a hurt toddler, Lost and alone.

Truly he is a spoilt child that only a mother could love,

He is Mother Nature’s child in fact.

 

Son of the earth spiteful and arrogant,

Like a hopeless teen.

Always running like an adult with a grim past.

 

Slowly flowing to a gradual halt,

An old man only wishing for a long rest.

The end in his sight.

 

The river is satisfied at last.

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