Farewell, too, to Water Row,
the road of choice to come or go,
I rode upon it many years,
and can certify it has no peers.
Decades flew by me on the Row,
but I came to realize rather slow
that this route became-how to say?
-an equal part of every day,
and not merely a convenient tool
to get me to a much-loved school.
On it I watched the seasons change,
in all of their astounding range:
from springtime floods to blackest ice
to crimson leaves-it all was nice.
How suddenly there came in view
a marsh, a field, a forest too!

Oh, somewhere else I'll come and go,
still I'll remember Water Row.

January 2005


All written material © Bill Schechter, 2016
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