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Young, teenage innocence.

The Lazy River

Fdf5205c-8b5b-4da8-a6dc-63fe28d680a9by Billy J. Stewart18 Mar 2016

I’ll never forget the day that you and I went down
To the lazy river.
Early summer, it was, warm of that evening.
I remember the scramble through the old Linen Works,
Juking about round the mill pond,
Down the rodden,
Trees on the banks, full of fairy shadows,
To the corner, where the salmon leaps in autumn.
And there beneath Orion we lay down, counting stars,
In honeys scent of wild parsley.
And you know, and I suppose,
In many ways,
Everything was perfect.
The gentle sound of the water on the mill steps,
The bats in feeding frenzy, gorging on midges.
Yet there, in tasting of your sweet kiss,
In clumps of yellow marigolds, I held you, heart to heart.
And the river, well, it flowed on, round that sweeping bend,
Eddys silent swirl with rising trout, and dancing Mayfly,
Under the trees, with their trailing, leafy fingers wet.
There we shared our dreams in whispered words.
Love was…and is…and will be…
Oh my, but we swore that it would be forever.
And in that moment you and I could only gaze,
Deep into our aching souls,
With eyes of longing.
Ah, you were in your beauty, young and fair,
Aglow in a summer moon that broke the canopy above us.
And so, recalling, in this tired mind of accumulating years,
I miss those far off days of Eden's innocence,
And I shed my tear for how I spoiled it.
I always will.
And you...
You are ever the same, each time I return,
To beat a lonesome path beneath the beeches,
Juking around the old mill,
Skipping along the rodden,
Past Cow Parsley tall,
Down to where the marigolds still bloom in May,
By my old friend, the lazy, lazy river.