Time will reap this place,
Like the sun will surely rise,
Speak no requiem for the lost,
And let that old hound die.
Hoist not a trophy nor a spirit,
For the river dried up long ago,
The valley caved in on me,
And woke me from my repose.
Wanderlust and wonder lost,
As swift as a sparrow's wings.
Even in this somber hour,
The mockingbird still sings.
And in my strange encounter,
I made a bid to be free.
But a shark will be nothing more
With the hungry gnashing of its teeth.
