Poetry

A thousand friends and I marched to the riverside.
As the sun set and lovers returned home,
crowds scattered far and wide as children returned to their own.
 
There at the riverside,
where all was no empty with just sweet silence.
The seagulls from their shore were heard in a remote distance
much like cries of a far off violence.
 
And there at the riverside, with a thousand friends and I.
Our marchings came aroar as our voices sung aloud.
Of a song of praise and worship to the lord so high.
 
Then there at the riverside,
were few passers by with just little to see,
and they strode on by by with only questionings in their mind,
just what could have been for such a crowd, for such gatherings
there at the riverside.
 
And with our voices of praise and with our song of worship,
there our hands grasped high as we gave thanks.
And there twilight arose and farewelled
A thousand friends and I as we marched from the riverside.