My River
Unmarred by clouds of fear of an
impending strife, for you refuse to
reflect them on your rippling self,
I gently call you, “My own river!”
Unmarred by clouds of fear of an
impending strife, for you refuse to
reflect them on your rippling self,
I gently call you, “My own river!”
Man calls it river, makes it flow like gutter. The sky is polluted, the river matches the sky.