Oh dear and lovely river of my dreams
I watch you sway and sing the world to sleep
I watch my childhood playing with the fish
I remember the crystals on the waves
The wildflowers that I picked in bouquets
You moan, but none can hear your quiet cry
You flowed to town from gentle hills above
You twist and turn, you slow to quench a thirst.
In winter I see tiny snowflakes fall
We fail to help you now and in the past
We fail, but we stand to try once again.
Some say that only god can make a tree
But rivers can be saved by kids like me.
by: Grace Fitzpatrick (age 13)
Anacostia Watershed Prize Winner (Washington, DC)
The actual river here: