south river

with just enough clearing in the brush
to make it to the river's edge
i sit by the water
thinking of son and daughter
and, my, how they grew

it could be june, at least it's warm
and this tired old rowboat is mine
to paddle a little way from shore
to drift away into time gone before
i feel the sun on my back

as the tiny water bugs circle
small animals and insects move in the thicket
and with nothing that matters
my every new thought scatters
it sure is a nice sunny day

i played at this place before
saw carp jump and ducks fly over
in this land i knew most of
i'm now just a ghost of
old memories on south river