The River

I sit and stare at a river so great,
The speed of its flow and the violence of its state.
I feel its strenght as it rips and roars,
Taring its way through the depths of my core.

I close my eyes and hear a whisper,
It sounds like angels, can it be her?
Her voice so soft and gently melodic,
The skin so soft, her hair about it,
The loyal soul about completes it.

With all my might I try and hold,
Onto such vision more precious than gold,
So desperate to maintain my eyes,
To hold them shut in paradise.

But then it opens and all I see,
is this river of misery.