The River

[Time for another random poem I wrote back in high school. I've always rather liked how the key elements begin to "rewind" towards the end.]

Shimmering, glimmering
Reflections at play,
Broken up sunlight
Shattered glass over clay.

Thousands of stars
Shining out from below,
So tranquil, so silent
As one do they flow.

The soft rippling tide
Stops not for you, nor for me,
Forever onward it trickles
Past the roots of a tree.

In autumn the leaves fall
And downstream they go,
Fished out by a lone child
His awed face aglow.

The ducklings ignore him
Not a single swivelled head,
Until, that is, they notice
The wonder that is bread.

Once sated, they continue
Along their watery way,
The child then pursues them
As night takes over day.

A dripping leaf falls from his hand
The child sees and understands:
To save the leaf he must risk all,
So what he does is leap — and fall.

The snap of thick roots marks his landing,
A torrent of water sweeps past,
As rings ripple outward,
He lets go of held wood,
And wishes for safety — and fast!

The roaring rapids overwhelm him
As he stares at the star-speckled sky.
He wishes once more for his freedom
But fate says: today he must die.

Shimmering, glimmering,
Reflections at play.
Masking the power
That’s hidden, come day.

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• English