THE BROOK

The Brook

Beyond my backyard flows
A babbling brook
Sometimes I go there, to
Write in my book

As I sit in the shade 'neath
A big maple tree,
Its rushing sound seems
To whisper to me

Tells me a story of the
Places it’s seen,
Where the sky is so blue
And the grass ever green

Looking up for a moment,
A boy is jumping about
He is so happy cause,
He’s caught a fine trout

I go there more often,
The older I get
Much of the time, its
There just to set

At times, up the brook
I go walking,
While the water does
All the talking

Telling of places
I’ve never been,
Where someday I’ll go,
But I don’t know when

Giving a picture of
Big rocky mountains,
Even of cities with
Pretty fountains

Doesn’t really matter
If I ever go there,
The brook always babbles
Water goes everywhere

I’ll just go out back, and
Take my book
Then I will listen, to
The sounds from the brook

Monty