The river flows with such admiration,
Never stopping to take a break and rest.
And it has for all of time’s duration,
Almost like it could never be depressed.
But one day, in the near future I see
A pretty river that has met its end.
Almost like it was finally set free
And now left with nature, a new best friend.
As animals come to meet this river,
A handful of water is what they take,
Making the river seem a nice giver,
Yet truthfully just used for their life’s sake.
As fate progresses forward in true time,
This river’s death has seemed more as a crime.
No comments:
Post a Comment
Feel free to add whatever you like! I like to think of language as a form of poetry, expressing the right to free speech and embracing individuality. However, please do not be disrespectful.