Dirty brown river,on best of days grey,
how do you keep me drawn?so I cannot stray?
once you enthralled me with exotic faces,
intrigued me with alien tongues from far off places,
I’d watch for hours,your comings and goings,
sometimes frustrated not aware ,not knowing,
where the great ships had sailed from,
a land of scorching sun?
what was thier destination beyond the horizon?
But now,like an old man tired,in the doldrums
tides hardly carry much, but flotsum and jetsum.
tourists take pictures ,and chatter and look,
disguss an oppulent past that they read in a book.
just passing through,a slight detour,
on thier pilgrimage trail for the Fabulous four.
strange,pull odd sense?I kind of belong?
what it is I’ve no clue?but know that it’s strong.
Dirty river?why do I crave you?you do me no good.
Maybe ties to you are too long,now you’re in my blood?

This poem was written/submitted by lynne hannah cannon.