Her River of Thoughts
She was a womanLiving on her own
In a small apartment
In a small town
Along the river
Where she would go
To sit and watch the boats
And barges traveling
Up and down, going places,
And living their lives
She would often drift off into thought.
People passed in front of her,
as she sat
On the wrought iron bench,
Daydreaming
She sometimes would smile
And say hello
Most all acknowledged her
In some way
So many different types of people
With lives that seemed to be
Different from hers
In some ways, it was true
In others, it was not
But being who she was
She never knew
As she watched them pass,
She would often drift off into thought.
She would linger awhile, perhaps watch
As the sunset changed the color
Of the sky,
The river,
And of her, too
As she watched these
Silent, slow, changes,
As day became night,
She would often drift off into thought
Then she would come home
To her empty house and she would
Write stories about people and places
And times that were real
And times that were not
Just her thoughts collected
And put on paper
She was a woman
Living on her own
Enjoying her freedom.
Kathy Lockhart 9/8/06
Poetry by Kathy Lockhart
Read 656 times
Written on 2006-09-09 at 00:02
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