Heretofore this river was crammed with raw chatter of townlet virtue, infants to lads and crippling elder, this canoe has seen a myriad of existence.
Slowly the time rolls and the civilization changes, the river ripples no further, long gone the days of the perpetual shuttle from one side to other, carrying life, purpose and time.
The world rested here in this wooden plank, leaving it all to the canoe to carry, at the edge of the voyage the canoe is roosting on the stagnant river, forever and more.
Sometimes the river ripples and canoe moves, hoping for a voyage but when the river settles you see the reflection of an old rusty man sailing to the (other) end.
