• words_of_emoticon 6w

    i creep down my path,
    a beautiful glazed river
    as they call me,
    when looked upon
    whether day or dusk
    they wait by my side–hopeful in vain.

    the rumbling against some rock,
    sound of lost letters
    knocking as if
    there'd be someone to receive.

    the silence of creek,
    a roar for the dead;
    i quiver a bit
    to let them know
    their loved ones
    are in safe wilderness.

    i hear none but
    listened by many.
    known for my nature
    they come for peace,
    little do they know the play
    for which they come i.e., the songs of the river
    written and composed–are my fellow onlookers.