River Waters Edge

As the forest sings,
on those red summer evenings,
by the waves on the river,
stagnant is the backwaters edge,
where the paladins are dancing,
near those violet forests,
as the stars are sleeping.

The rocks peek thorough,
embroidered with black moss,
weathered by the current,
and the passing tumble stones,
hurled from earthen bowels,
by great veils of magmatism,
created in past antiquity.

In this dream I shall feel,
that runs dark blue,
the river murmurs,
among the foliage,
where the river conflates,
jostled together protractedly,
in the amazing starlight!