Water tis both sweet and sad, wetting parched throats and dangerous riverbanks, trickling down windowpanes and pained cheeks. It feeds the buds in springtime; then floods with no regret when summer storms come fast and early.
Streams bear boats, and house fish in murky depths. Their raging waters speed journeys and death.
In the heat of a steaming bath, cares dissolve with the sweat and grime, while the icy embracing of the rivers wandering course, can bring the end of thought.
The sea is water too, bearing neither good nor ill, yet it saved my heart by washing it away.