Joyce Chelmo

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Best Poem of Joyce Chelmo

Bridge Of Sighs

As a child I often found myself
under the old iron bridge
that crossed the Shagawa River,
skipping flat stones
across cool waters.

A place of solace,
where I could escape
daily pressures.

Enchanted by the power
of the river's flow.
Captured by the enigma
of its depths.

It was a cool musty place
with the fragrance
only a river creates.

The only sounds;
the hollow crunch
of my footsteps
on those shale stones
that lined the river bank,
sound of the flow,
and the echo of my sighs.

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There’s No Going Home

Grew up barefoot & feral
on the banks of
the lazy Shagawa river,
in an old lumber ghost town.
They say it was a booming
city in the early 1900's.

There’s still a small lumber mill
on the far edge of town,