Timeless Flows The Tweed Poem by David Page- aka Harry Riley

Gathering pace with effortless grace
Sometimes no more than a silent trace
Emerging from that humble source
To wind its final seaward course

Through Scottish towns it bravely roars
While above it high the Curlew soars
From Scott and Buchan much is read
But the river never counts its Dead

Impervious to stormy wind and rain
And all of human toil and pain
A home where Mighty Salmon feed
A haven where small mammals breed

We cannot know our earthly thread
How short, how far each, life may tread
But when I, ve gone, and soul is freed
Just scatter my ashes on the Tweed
Harry Riley 2022