FLOATING ON THE RIVER

A river named Poetry
flows through my dreams
with cascading mists
dancing in moonbeams.

The cool taste of words
delights in my ear
as I'm drifting in poems
full of good cheer.

I wade with my Wellies
and grab some smooth stones,
for as long as there's poetry
I've no need to roam.

Exotic destinations are all
found in verse.
Addicted to rhyming,
oh, that is my curse.