My River

I have a river of my own, A river, flowing Naturally. I see her in waves, On her Meandering trails, Lonely. ‘River training’ Is a term I heard From a very Early age, A father, engineer, Left an imprint On my Coloring page. His office talks often Engaged terms Like ‘embankment.’ Rhymes better, Feels proper, Along a way Of atonement. I was awfully apt To color my river, In times of my leisure. It was always near My house, my fun-walk, With pleasure. I fancy now, I had a boat and Knew to manage That boat of mine. Shed tears to lose Inside my dreams. And often dreams still shine.