Fredrick McDonald

(Seneca Falls, N.Y. now in Genoa N.Y.)

to where the river flows


to where the river flows love knows to where it might go for when it kisses the evening snow heart's are filled with silver and gold not to see the shimmer of light until you hold some one tight when will she know she is miss right until she sees that mystic night when the love starts to flow like the river of gold until they unite they will never grow old until this north wind starts to blow down the river it will go waiting for that evening snow

Submitted: Tuesday, February 12, 2008
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