Babbling and bubbling I hear it
the river of my childhood days
giving comfort like a lost friend
at times rapids of foam and spray
casting shimmering rainbows to the sky
then drifting silently through calm pools
In hidden corners sheltered from light
water flowing clean and pure
uncorrupted and innocence...
But as the waters gather
drawing nearer to the end
the water now flows thick like blood
the air is pierced by a pungent smell
like milk left out too long
the river still seems to beckon me
to lead me to an overwhelming question
is the rivers innocence really lost?
I cannot say the things I want to say.