Time’s a River

What waters slip past
This turn of the stream?
Rock and root arranged
And placed precisely.
The stream is not the path
That wends through root and clay.
The stream is just the water
That finds its trail this way.
What waters caress
As they slide on by?
One drop might touch the shore
Until another takes its try.
Meanwhile an appearance
Of a permanence remains,
Though every time we glimpse her
She is never quite the same.
Where we once wet our feet
Has long since gone away.
Currents stole the memory of
My river that couldn’t stay.



Filed under poem, poetry

2 responses to “Time’s a River

  1. Sad. I hope you’re doing well Johnny.


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