Down The River Poem by Cynthia Cename

High soars and drifting ways,
The river fish and solemn dunes,
The tries and welcome nickity,
Great lies for feet and meek three.

The Mounty trip would haul along,
The glimpse that I should be aware,
With gypsies nouk and sometime fime,
Be glancing press the yonder praise.

I shang and supposed to holler pright,
Accumulate the jury grit,
Intense of soul and buzzle base
To right the helm and very breathe.

Against the force was twitle sight,
The golder rhyme were mumble hike,
Skimming and subconsciously,
Brime and beacon consumely.

Tons and fuel of my dree,
Oak so moaked Guinness tee,
Blimey but follow rushes flow
Score to more and hustle coe.

Fare and subtle, calm and sweet,
Been to mutual frudged neat,
Not the sway will only geese
A sole too far away perhaps reverse.