Standing on the riverside one day,
I could see the trees going green,
Birds chirping, and the wind was new,
But alas morbid thoughts swam in my mind.
Thoughts of failure, of love lost,
Thoughts of life and death,
Thoughts of money,
And that of crushed dreams.
Getting up I walked along the riverside,
Seeing the blue water through misty eyes,
Sadness at the way I choose to leave this world,
Apprehension at what lay ahead.
I saw then a child,
Not more than eight years of age,
Crying as he waded into the welcoming,
Dreaded waters of the river.
Wading into the water up to him,
I asked gently, “What is it, child?”
To which he gave an answer,
“My ball is in the river.”
Picking up the child,
I took him to the shore,
Murmuring assurances that I would get his ball,
And with that went into the river.
I strode into the blue water,
Up to my waist,
Before I could see the ball,
Bright blue in color, hidden in the depths.
I put my hand into the water,
Reaching down into the riverbed.
But the ball eluded me,
Like the cunning fox eludes the hunter.
Again I tried, harder this time,
Putting my hand up to the shoulder,
But to no avail because the ball,
Seemed to move to inner depths as soon as it felt my touch.
Looking up I could see the child,
Yonder on the distant bank,
Still crying softly,
With tears running down his cheek.
Harder I tried,
Time and again,
But these tries were just failures,
Not unlike I faced in my life.
Then when I lost all hope,
And with desperation I plunged,
My hand into the water,
With all the force I could muster.
Wonders of wonder!
I held loft the ball,
That had so far eluded me,
To see the smile creep back unto the child’s face.
Coming to the shore,
I handed the ball back,
To the child, with a smile on my face,
Wiping the tears on his cheek.
I looked into his eyes,
They had a colour I couldn’t make out,
Something stirred inside of me,
A feeling of awe transpired.
The child turned away,
With my feet rooted to the spot,
I could see him walk away,
Leaving no footprints in the sand.
I could see the trees going green,
Birds chirping, and the wind was new,
But alas morbid thoughts swam in my mind.
Thoughts of failure, of love lost,
Thoughts of life and death,
Thoughts of money,
And that of crushed dreams.
Getting up I walked along the riverside,
Seeing the blue water through misty eyes,
Sadness at the way I choose to leave this world,
Apprehension at what lay ahead.
I saw then a child,
Not more than eight years of age,
Crying as he waded into the welcoming,
Dreaded waters of the river.
Wading into the water up to him,
I asked gently, “What is it, child?”
To which he gave an answer,
“My ball is in the river.”
Picking up the child,
I took him to the shore,
Murmuring assurances that I would get his ball,
And with that went into the river.
I strode into the blue water,
Up to my waist,
Before I could see the ball,
Bright blue in color, hidden in the depths.
I put my hand into the water,
Reaching down into the riverbed.
But the ball eluded me,
Like the cunning fox eludes the hunter.
Again I tried, harder this time,
Putting my hand up to the shoulder,
But to no avail because the ball,
Seemed to move to inner depths as soon as it felt my touch.
Looking up I could see the child,
Yonder on the distant bank,
Still crying softly,
With tears running down his cheek.
Harder I tried,
Time and again,
But these tries were just failures,
Not unlike I faced in my life.
Then when I lost all hope,
And with desperation I plunged,
My hand into the water,
With all the force I could muster.
Wonders of wonder!
I held loft the ball,
That had so far eluded me,
To see the smile creep back unto the child’s face.
Coming to the shore,
I handed the ball back,
To the child, with a smile on my face,
Wiping the tears on his cheek.
I looked into his eyes,
They had a colour I couldn’t make out,
Something stirred inside of me,
A feeling of awe transpired.
The child turned away,
With my feet rooted to the spot,
I could see him walk away,
Leaving no footprints in the sand.
