RIVER MAIDS
As I sat by the river it sang a song to me,
A song ever changing, ‘twas of fantasy,
It was sweet and appealing, softly lilting,
Voices singing for me, quietly enchanting.

One moment the song was full of sadness,
Then full of happy chatter and gladness,
My heart learned to know more of the tale
As I saw in the river faces fair and pale.

Pale beauty touched each cold dead face,
Each called me with soft appealing grace,
Yet in each note an icy cold could be felt,
As I gazed into the water as at the side I knelt.

My hand touched the water cold and clear,
Sweeter and louder those cold voices I did hear,
They sang to my tender heart, they needed me,
“Come, come, join us, come and set us free.

A clap of thunder, then the rain began to fall.
Brought me to my senses, saved from the call
Of the graceful voices of those river maids,
Yet that sound is something that never fades.

Oh the river maids voices will always dwell within
My heart until the day I die, calling me to come in,
The haunting call of some one seeking help from me,
I wonder if I ever could have set them free.

M Ann Margetson © August 23, 2001