A1a Babbling Brook Poem by Bill Smith

This rambling stream,
This babbling brook
Cling filming rocks
With backwards looks
These now tall trees
From saplings sown
Walk brave paths
To him unknown
This grey cloud floater
Sun shielded eyes
Lives half a life
And half in lies
Self deceiver
Petal strewn bed
She loves me not
Eyes once red
Less hope than hopeless
More smiled than smile
One foot either side
Of green pastures stile
Slow winds of change
Blow light like breath
Slow the march
To certain death
Egg shell creeper
Wide eyed dreamer
Too old to be
An innocent believer
Straws to grasp
Dice to roll
Chances left
The end unfolds
Birds may fly
Fish may swim
Within the man
The boy gives in
This babbling brook
This rambling stream
With backwards looks
Shatters dreams