The river of childhood. The river of now.
Forty years passed; now with two sticks it takes 20 minutes to get there;
The land so flat; swirling water, shades of green, blue sky and clouds
River keeps flowing; I travel the world; river keeps going.
As a child, swimming in summer, collecting horse chestnuts in Autumn, sliding on the snow in winter;
‘Don’t fall in’, cry the parents.
Now, with 48 years, I hold my mother’s hand, sitting on the bench, the last warm summer air caresses our faces.
The branches blow in the gentle breeze; summer hangs on before the winds of Autumn.
Childhood memories shared, when did we last sit, hold hands like this?
So much peace, so much calm
A boat comes past; a hundred years ago the river was the road!
So many memories; now I sit as a middle-aged man with a body I am getting to know.
How will my future be? I will recover.
I will run down the banks; I will play with my children in the snow
The flat land is my home; so much peace.
Thank you God for this beauty.
Thank you, mum, for your hand.
We will hold each other’s hand in eternity.
