The River

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


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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