Little river...

Between two mountains lay a River,
Strong and beautiful she streamed.
The Sun comes out,
the River bathes in His warmth.
Then the Cloud comes out
to replenish the River.

Life travels in a circle,
The River transcends and grows.
There are banks beside it,
Lush and green.
Fields of flowers,
Smiling gleefully.

One day the Sun was angry
filled with wrath.
Turned against the River,
Her stream no more.
The water she harboured,
Was less than a trickle to spare.

The Cloud, seeing the Sun turn on the River,
Tried to help by weeping.
But no amount of tears from the Cloud
Could help the River return to her glory.
Now the grass and flowers are dying,
All the life is gone between the Mountains.