The River

We used to go down to Daddy's cabin every winter,
My brother and I, that is.
The two men would sit in front of the log fire,
Embracing the burning heat.

I'd shoot my father a smile while he hugged me,
"Be back by dinner time,"
He'd say, five seconds after my arrival.
He knew where I was going.

I sat on the arced wooden bridge,
Listening to the sounds
Of which had become my favourite tune;
Tiny waves rippling the water.

I thought myself a mermaid,
Wishing this river my home.
Whenever I dipped in a finger, the cold stung my hand,
Yet I find warmth just sitting at its side.

The tame river was just that: tame, quiet,
Yet reminded me of the ocean:
A ferocious beast that nobody could escape from,
But I never felt scared.

The river was my protection, from what I can't say;
The genuine love of a young girl's life.
So every year we'd travel to that cabin,
But it wasn't the log fire that kept me coming back.