On Sonnings Bank

The might and tide of the Royal River

Coursing fair the breadth of ancient lands

Constricted and laid open by time and winds

A history of labour with weathered hands.

Willows lay weeping while their roots search forth

Like desert tentacles in our land grasping.

Desperately satisfying her satiation

Old tunnels reflecting time honored path of waters memories, lasting.

And yet she lets us watch with unabashed abandon.

Flow on old girl to meet your mother...

Through time hardened history you have yet not seen.

Flow on girl, you are like no other...