by Vanya Rumsey
little goldie went a-walking
down by the riverbed.
“this mud is too thick,” she said.
so it sucked her down, alone, she’s gone down.
little goldie went a-crying down under the riverbed.
“this water is too cold,” she said.
so it swept her away, alone, she’s gone away.
little goldie went a-searching down in the riverbed.
“this life is too lonely,” she said.
so it kissed her lips and she turned blue, adrift.
“this is just right,” goldie said, reeds growing in her riverhead.