Water, water from where did you flow?
And when you spilled over
Pray, where did you go?
.
So cold and so clear
On the warmest of days
Freezing my fingers
Enchanting my gaze
.
Even in winter
The spring never ceased
The bowl filled with ice
And the beauty increased
.
My father stopped here
And all those before him
After play cooling splashing
'Till soaked to the skin
.
Do you still exist
In that village so far
Calling young boys
To catch frogs in a jar?
.
I wish I were there
With a grandson or two
Telling them all
I remember of you
.
Water, water from where did you flow?
And when you spilled over
Pray, where did you go?
6 comments:
And what secrets did the water take with it? I think that perhaps a visit with a couple of grandsons may be in order, thereby continuing the fond memories and inspiring the young ones to imagine and dream.
What is it about water that makes us nostalgic? I have written of it a few times from different angles, but always it carries memories just beneath the surface. It does enchant us. I love it frozen and I enjoy frogs in it to this day :).
Beautiful...I love the passage and the poem :)
elegant,
keep these coming.
welcome sharing a random or relevant poetry with us today.
:)
hope to see you in.
very nice foto and intresting words, like a lot
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