The Ballad of the River
The river flows, so sweet and blue
From the mountain snow, the stream dose comes,
The fish are swimming, the children run.
Forest shelters those who are true.
But few are children, they come no more.
They are within, their love unknown.
Their sacred play forever gone,
Locked away within of a door.
The birds are singing, though all alone.
The squirrels are running, but without fun
Because the children do not run.
Their hearts are empty without tone
A soul is waiting known and true,
It sits forever, sadly alone
The children gone, they run no more,
A sadden tale we can’t undo.
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