My River
I'm sitting by the river on a lovely summer day
And all the troubles of this world can seem so far away.
My dear old friend my ginger cat, jumps upon my lap
And purring with contentment settles down to have a nap.
A pair of graceful dragonflies are darting to and fro
As if they can't make up their minds just where they want to go.
It's not a mighty river, not much more than a stream,
But I can sit upon its bank, a place where I can dream.
I look back on my childhood that seems so long ago
When the air you breathed was sweet and clean and life itself was slow.
When horses ploughed the fields and stinking tractors few
And hosts of flowers in meadows were kissed by morning dew.
When poppies grew in cornfields, now a sight you never see,
For you mustn't have a poppy where a stalk of corn should be.
This river once so full of life is almost empty now,
No more you see a kingfisher diving from a bough.
So many things are changing, so many things are gone,
The spoiling of this precious world just goes on and on.
When I look into the future and think what will it be
With little left upon the land and little in the sea.
Will they know the pleasure of a lovely babbling brook,
Will the only dragonflies they know be pictures in a book?
What will this world of ours be like in 2092?
Will the fields still be lovely green and the sky a gentle blue?
And now the day is ending, the sun is sinking low,
So I say to my old ginger cat, come on, it's time to go....
Allen Smith
