O'er the Thames River the red sun disappears
As I stand on the old train bridge looking down.
I can almost hear the trains of yesteryear
Winding their weary way through the old stone town.
The river carves a path throught the fertile groud.
Next to the running water lies a lush plain.
The grass is so green and the trees do abound
Where Jersey cows once grazed beneath passing trains.
Two ducks take a long drink after the soft rain
As they hide behind a swaying poplar tree.
In the distance grows a field of golden grain
As far away as the naked eye can see.
As I stand on the old train bridge, silence speaks;
And a hush falls o'er the meandering creek.
(Linda Jonasson, St. Mary's, Ontario, July 20, 2006.)
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