The Creek

The Creek

The creek brings by many a treasures
The ringing of flutes, the calming of a harp,
With the trickles against the glorious stones.
Not all treasures are those you can see
But what you think you see.

A rose bush reflected from the hillside,
A pinkish white glory
In the shape of a beautiful bouquet.
The creek reflecting so many beautiful wonders.

I sit here as the darkness rolls over the hillside
The darkness is a black as a penguin's black suit.
A suit, a suit remember those days
Days of happiness and joy.

The pictures here of you in a lacy beaded wedding dress
With him in his top hat, that was the day of your happiness.
Those days that you were in pure joy.

Those days have not gone away
They have continued on,
Moving on like the creek.
Finding a way around every stone,
Combining all the beautiful wonders into one.