Along the Riverbank

The luminescence of low hanging mist whirls Agitated winds shiver the tall cottonwoods The ever present sound of the old river passing She stands on the small rustic pier daydreaming Watching the waters carry an old tugboat south She waves as the captain sounds his sad horn A breeze catches the hem of her dress, lifting it upward Her long slender legs and bare feet exposed to morning rays A single teardrop falls from her troubled eye She knows she will soon be leaving this magical place Traveling far to the western desert, and away from her folks She turns and leaves, making her way up the wet path She ponders her anxious future amid the vines of honeysuckle The smell of bacon soon fills her senses as her home appears Smoke curling down from the antique stone chimney Porch steps squeak, the screen door slaps, she has decided © Copyrights G. Jones 2006