The River - a poem by Florence Liberfarb...

This morning fog hovers over it,

Steaming and curling.

I steal quick glances

As I drive, reminded

Of the pipe you used to smoke,

How it went with your profile,

Our profile

And that small movie house,

Now a professional building,

Where we chose only love stories

And afterwards, wine

And our youthful vigor.

Sometimes the river runs full

To overflowing,

Then in August dry rocks

Toast in the sun.

You sit across from me at dinner,

Silent as the river,

I listen

To your deep, steady currents

The River by Florence Liberfarb

Florence Liberfarb writes poetry, short stories and plays. You may freely republish this poem for non-commercial use provided you follow the Publisher Guidelines and provide a hyperlink (electronic media) to the Wordly Web Site. You may not alter the copyright notice or edit the content of this poem. Please notify the author of your intent to republish. Commercial use of this poem requires written permission and payment of a royalty.

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Poems, Stories, and Plays by

Florence Liberfarb