The River

She loves like a wild river,
That you know you’ll never tame.
A taker and a giver
And never twice the same.

A fresh drink she could deliver,
A thirsty soul that rasps and burns.
So you seek out your river,
Despite her twists and turns.

Sojourn to find a dusty bed,
Parched and cracked, when drawing near.
Or perhaps, there instead,
A delta of salty tears.

And you’ll add yours – recalling your first swim.
The water was cool
To an enamored fool,
And you dove straight in.

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