There runs the river ~ running through,
with shades of brown and muddied hue,
old as old ~ and bending long ~
beguiled by Nature's sweetened song.
Reverie in spring's delight,
now fill the river's lonely sight ~
with warming rays of sunshine gold,
beaming on the waters cold.
Spring turns into the warmth of June,
as the river flows to summer's tune ~
beneath a silvered moon's respite,
upon a breathless summer's night.
Too soon, the river nods its head,
to sleep a dream within its bed ~
when seasons change, and autumn bares-
its leaves to rest in slumber's care.
Alas, the graying days appear.
Cold now hovers ~ ever near,
to freeze the river's running now,
as winter takes its chilly bow.
Old as old ~ and bending long ~
asleep within a winter's
Answer by mrssullivan at 7:19 AM on Oct. 4, 2008