The River I Ride

My river runs deep, my river is wide, and my river takes me through rough and still waters. This is the river I ride.

Such as the journeys taken in my mind, my river is cold and uncaring; forcing it’s way down through the rocky shorelines and past those small villages and towns.

No time to stop, no time to play, no picnics and quiet country fairs, or ice cream cones on a warm summer’s day.

I ride my river past all of these stops, there’s nothing quite like sitting and wondering where my river will take me on this long ride alone.

I pass by people who sit and fish or jump in for a swim, did I forget those who swing from a rope hung from that old mighty oak?

Smiles abound from these very young folks, they use my river to find comfort and enjoyment, something I’d never discovered no matter how hard I tried.

As I hang on to this ride, yes I have my rough spots, quiet and calm one minute and torrid rapids with cold spraying foam the next and so on and so on.

My river runs deep, there’s only cold dark water that shows only my reflection and my reflection always stands alone.

I’ve been on this journey such a very long time, I am weary of this type of travel, I wish I could catch a bus.

It’s time for a change, this can’t go on this way, don’t ask me why, but this journey needs to end, all I need is to find a port.

If I can find this pier to stop and tie up this boat, I’ll walk away and say so long.

No longer the passenger, its time to step up and walk free, free from the cold and darkness and look at my reflection that’s created by the sun.

The work and the effort it took to arrive at this point, I hope will return a reward of looking at my reflection.

Seeing there’s more than just one.

Bear