Born in St Mary parish, Jamaica. W I. Kelly attended Jackson all-age school, which was to later become known as Jackson primary & junior high, a school in, St. Mary, parish Jamaica. This, therefore, is a thank you note, of sorts. Dedicated to the people of Parish in general, western St Mary, and in particular, the region which includes, districts such as Jackson, George Town, Silver Spring, mile Gully, and onwards through to Linstead St Catherine, where he was to sojourn for a stretch. Now, don’t feel slighted if you don’t see your town represented here. We can’t cover all in one piece of poetry, another piece of poetry speaks to some of those so, that is for another time. Now, [here’s the poem,](. https://anchor.fm/e-lloyd-kelly/episodes/Sweet-Waters-of-Silver-Spring--A-poem-by--E-Lloyd-Kelly-e9qr81/a-a17slfp ) to you from me, with love. Also on YouTube.
Sweet Waters of Silver Spring. Oh! what soft soothing pleasures you bring. To my eyes, my ears, my thirsty lips. My tongue so longed to taste your flowing delight. Whilst skin touches your smooth cascades beneath the soft shadows of night. Your slender arms hug the neck of Athlone way over on left. Whilst Georgetown’s high hills caresses your breast. Yet, your cool clear waters bubbles and constantly, your waters flow. Where do you come from they asked and where do you hasten to go. No one has ever answered, nobody seems to know. Young ladies fair washing their hair. Bending beneath your crystal flow. Shadowed curtains around them drawn. Be it at nightfall or at early dawn. Chattering women washing their load. On rocks smooth surfaces by the side of the road. Valiant young men awaiting their turn. Sits on the culvert’s edge as they discover and as they learn. Just one short leg away from hip to toe. You burst up from the ground and hurries to go. By lush green trees while bending low. They salutes and bows in reverent show. Sumptuous, refreshing, savory sweet. Waters of my unassuming Silver Spring. You winds your way over rocks and river moss all live long day. Until you pour out of your glad waters, into the anxious jaws of Rio Sambre. By. E Lloyd Kelly, Feb. 2016