#WritcoPoemPrompt6
The river that flows down the hill,
Is never able to be a moment still,
The rocks and pebbles at it's edge,
Lie as steady as the dead,
Narrow and wide at different places,
A source of pleasure for different races,
Singing a song of nature,
Helpful and useful for every creature,
Difficult to understand its depth,
Same as its length and breadth,
People love to visit it on weekends,
Trees and birds are its true friends,
To see it flowing is a matter of glory,
It has its untold story.

© Jaspinder Singh