The River is a Monthly Publication
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Arts, Poetry, Essays, & much more.
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living in the arms of two rivers, i swim my way every day into the way that is the riverbed i was bon into. and i meander roads to alleys and parks and buildings in frosty days. yes, the rivers now have been turned to ice, so in winter i skate my way, coldly pacing, warmly entering the city. is there a city around me with people also skating their way to their wishes. and their wishes are always a step ahead and they will never reach them, but a dream, a hazy dream spanning over the double-river-city, iced, frosty, melted in their memory of the waters that have disappeared this winter, that don’t meander. only the memory of some happy fish remain deep down in their hearts, deep down, under the thick ice layer that leaves them without food, but with a glipmse of hope. the fish live on the hope that spring is goind to bring them the sun again, to enter their eyes with warmth, with warmth waaaaarmth.
A River lover and dweller writes…