Poem

Watermill
(Sonnet)
In innocence you flirt with the river,
Your paddles slow, but rhythmically turning.
The spray sizzles, forming liquid silver,
Leaves desire in the artist, burning;
For him the ever changing light and shade
In the daily cycle of river life
Waits to be spread on canvas, this portrayed
With water, brushes, pallet paints and knife.
And poets try to capture every mood
In lines of simile and metaphor,
The heart and soul are filled with words, like food
And immortalise you for evermore.
So even when your working life is through
Words and pictures will give you life anew.