White River

Water swirls and twists,
As clean and cold as ice,
My feelings start to shift,
As memories float and slice,

Stripping bone and skin,
The water warms in time,
The fog begins to thin,
And the river starts to climb,

Time touches open wounds,
And recoils at the sight,
Where were you to coo,
And rock away my fright,

That boiling raging river,
As it cuts into the stone,
I bounce, quake and shiver,
That lie we called a home,

That broken little girl,
Those streams of her tears,
That pooled and began to swirl,
A churning torrent of pain and fear,

That screaming roaring river,
Eating her inside,
She begins to rock and quiver,
Her pleas all denied,

I look for the return of winter,
To freeze the rivers bite,
A cold hard, frozen river,
Free from glaring light,

But a river is always moving,
Even a glacier will slide,
My river is slowly building,
A tower built of blue and white.