By Charlotte At The Riverside
There I was again in the evening air
As though all my rivers kept flowing past
(Maybe I never left the little boat at all)
One half then, a bit now, almost half a future
At times there will be someone missing
There's no gentle hand to warm the chills
Even if the old wind carries familiar smells
Later in the autumn breeze, after tying up
My river skiff, after I get out to walk home
(Sun due to set, every tomorrow's coming)
Ghosts I speak with will have such cold breath
They say it once, they'll say it again, half-counsel
Starting, starting over means giving up so much.
© 2015 Rob Schackne
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