Meander with me down that winding trail,
remembering the way it was before.
Back then, when we set paper ships to sail,
and chased their passage, safe upon the shore.
Recall with me the sound of rushing stream,
reverberating thunder to our ears.
Look now beneath the rushing water’s gleam
and rectify the turbulence of years.
The song the river sang was wild and sweet,
a true rendition of our childhood days,
rehearsed and then repeated, ’til replete,
we sank our ships and went our separate ways.
Oh, how to reinstate those wondrous years,
and sail our paper boats upon our tears.
© 2017 Sharon Anderson