The River of Childhood Memories

Midrange my house, a river flows,

A liquid ribbon where memory grows.

Its whispering currents, a lullaby sweet,

Cradled my childhood in a rhythmic heartbeat.

In summer’s fervor, under the blazing sky,

The river became a silver symphony’s sigh.

We, like sparrows, darted and leaped,

As its arms embraced us, cool and deep.

The water splashed, a cascade of light,

Dancing beneath the amber twilight.

We rode on laughter, swift and wild,

Joy woven in each splash, every mile.

Winter came with its hush and shroud,

The river wrapped in a frost-bound cloud.

Its voice, once bold, grew a gentle hum,

A glistening thread where time seemed numb.

We stood at its banks, still and serene,

Fishing for dreams in waters keen.

When it dried, revealing its storied bed,

Secrets emerged; tales unsaid.

We combed through the maze, a hidden trove,

Finding crabs and treasures, proof of love.

Each discovery, a spark, a cheer,

Echoes of youth, precious and clear.

This river, more than water, more than stone,

Holds the pulse of moments we’d grown.

Summers thundered, winters sighed,

And carefree whispers never died.

So I share with the world, this story untold,

Of a river’s soul, both tender and bold.

The keeper of dreams, of laughter’s hue,

A guardian of memories, old and new.