It starts high up in the mountains <br />Coming down as a rivulet <br />Till it reaches the granite wall <br />And comes over the lip <br />Centuries of wearing it away <br />That have progressed into milleniums <br />Has smoothed all the once rough edges <br />And made a curved dip <br />In spring, just after the snow thaws <br />It comes down as a roaring torrent <br />So that people taking photographs <br />Have to shout to each other <br />In late summer after the sun <br />Has evaporated most of the moisture <br />The water comes down as a very fine veil <br />As fine as one that might cover <br />A young bride's face <br />But whether fast or whether slow <br />It all finally reaches the bottom <br />Where it splashes into a rock basin <br />That forms a deep round pool <br />The sort that in fantasy tales <br />That unicorns come, at twilight, to drink from <br />Then it's over the side of the sink <br />And down into the river <br />Where it slowly meanders its' way <br />Down to the sea.<br /><br />Marilyn Shepperson<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/aber-falls/
