River Boy

 

That dreaming boy had wandered from his mates.
He wandered off with fishing rod in hand.
So far away from ripples of the lake
and out into the wild and rugged land.

 

So far away from all his fishing friends.
So far away from crowded waterways.
A moment to reflect on summer’s end –
enjoy the fading sunshine of the day.

 

Reflecting on a girl from faeryland.
Reflecting on her beauty and her grace.
Resolving that he must declare his hand.
Trying to recall her fading face.

 

And sitting on a log beneath the sun,
he stretched and yawned and closed his dreaming eyes.
He earnestly believed she was the one,
but visions of her frown had made him shy.

 

Before too long his mind began to drift
into the land of fairy tales and dreams…
and he awoke surrounded by a mist
and heard cicadas chirping by the stream,

 

and noticed that the sun had slipped away,
the escalating darkness brought a shiver.
Arising from the log on which he lay,
he peered into the ever flowing river…

 

I am the river and I am the way.
I am the night and I am the day.
I am the future and I am the past.
I am the first and I am the last.

 

from Chime

 

More from Damian Balassone can be read Here.

 

More poetry from Almanac Poetry can be read HERE

 

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