River of Glass

Here I sit beside a bubbling brook, Like a river of glass along the path it took,

River of Glass

Here I sit beside a bubbling brook,
Like a river of glass along the path it took,
Mysteriously the reflection there I see,
With furrowed brow and puzzled look,
Staring in wonder back at me.
Things I’ve seen, things I’ve done,
Battles I’ve fought, battles I’ve won,
All the stories, all the nursery rhymes,
Has slipped away like the sands of time.
Oh, what foul joke life played along the way?
To turn this reflection to weathered and gray,
Have I gone as far as I can go?
Only the Holy Father really knows.
Fear of the unknown soon will pass,
Like the ripples in this river of glass.

Copyright © 2014 Bobby Fassler
All rights reserved