Writing 101: The River, The Guardian and The View

So it occurs I’ve to write
About a ‘room’ and the view.
And I let my mind wander
To my memory’s countless views.

‘Twas Saturday, as it goes
And the evening descending low
O’er the winding hilly road
Riding pillion I was though.

A curve or two after the bridge
Over the wide river below.
He made it halt, that ride of ours
As he took some time to phone.

I treaded to the edge of road
And gazed at the river below
Calmly flowing in its tread
Along the direction of the road.

Composed and cool, it did pour
Darker than all else around.
Sharing voices with the mighty hill,
With green growth that rose above.

It was drenched in mild glows
Of the sun as it escaped.
And the rays piercing the smoke
Made it look like a guardian great.

Spreading rays from the sharp summit
Looked like it was his own glow.
And I knew before we had left
Of another friend, I have come to know.