Come Walk With Me

a poem by Christine Anne Shaw, UK

I walk the sturdy, steel-grey bridge
which spans the river's flow,
to watch the gush and sudden rush
of water plunge below.

The wicked weir with all its force,
a source of fear to some.
And yet it holds a canvas bold
to thrill for days to come.

A thousand swirls of crystal twirls
cascade and dance for joy,
as continents of floating foam
surround a bobbing bouy.

A suge of moving marble peaks
collide with broken reeds,
and small suds on the margins form
a line of cut glass beads.

Too soon they merge then disappear,
lost in the downstream race,
where all becomes a memory
of crystalline and lace.

In Search of Paradise
A Bouquet of Nature's Best

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