The River Sometimes I make for the river,
And sit while it passes me by,
I have a sense of foreboding,
For the life of me, I don't know why.
I love to sit down by the river,
To be lost in the depths of its pull,
And although the sun tries to warm it,
The fast flowing river stays cool.
I look at the river in wonder,
I'm calmed by the sound that it makes,
I know that it ends in the ocean,
But I'm not sure just how long it takes.
I wonder now where does it come from,
And where does its journey begin,
The river holds on to its secrets,
Guess, I'll never know just where it's been.
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