Rivulet

Rivulet.


Lackluster stream, foams of rejection on
its surface, meanders between grey stones
before it disappears down a drain.

I used to bath her in summers that now are
dreams, and in twilight catch trout with my
homemade bamboo rod

Look at it now, a sick soul, and there is no
one around who remembers its glory, this
smelly old brook that ought to be removed.