The River

November 24, 2008
By Ella W., Boston, MA

Her name tells of how it was with her.
She was like a river.
Flowing never stopping
So determined
And paving her own path
Among the mountains
And Valleys.
Was always somewhere in between.
At times
She was roaring rapids
Never looking back.
Next moment,
She was calm, serene,
And new where she was going.
But then
She trickled into a tiny stream
Percolating through the rocks of life
With the distant leaves of hope
Flying high above her.
She was vulnerable and small
Like a stream.
Only ever for a little while
Until she was a river again.
Every once in a while,
A dam would stop her.
Make her nostalgic
For when she was flowing free.
She was stuck in the past
Wondering what would happen
When the dam set her free.
Then it broke
And she went on her way
Through the mud and stones
Out into the open sea
Where she rested.

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