- The River -

The lion roars his gutsy scream,
The running river carries with it a forgoten dream.
Through rocks it slowly grinds away,
Fragment by fragment, molding the clay.

And I scream the way the lion does,
The grinding river exposes a fragile love.
Calming the wild rivers flow,
This love could melt the winter snow.

Though, it couldn't melt the cold from you,
And should you freeze then I shall too.
Then once again, I'd hide myself away,
Until another river, could grind these rocks to clay.

This one is for Tegan, should she ever read it...

- Wood_Stock -