The River Poem by William Richards

I am haunted by the river.
It courses through my veins,
washing all my thoughts and hopes away,
like yesterday's leaves and mud,
until only the memory of you remains.

Dazzling lights dance and spin,
watched over by every silent star.
You are my prize, of all the prizes there,
no hoops to throw, no cold fish catches,
you, and close encounters in my car.

And still they spin, and the chill
November rains cause a shiver,
and frozen gasps and limbs disturb the white
mists and grey stones, and frozen bones.
I am haunted by the river.