I sit calloused on this river rock
as I watch the white stream crashing by.
Each salmon swims from the hungry hawk
with not a moment to stop and wonder why.
I used to come here as a kid
before I learned to worry or to care.
Some memories died, some others I hid.
They’re floating down the river somewhere.
I once came here with a girl
in the twilight of a summer day.
She could reach in dirt and find a pearl
then leave it for the stream to take away.
We sat in the Earth, breathed a mossy scent.
Some drops splashed from stones to her hair.
I never saw her go, I just knew she went.
She’s floating down the river somewhere.
I once knew an older man
who used to sit beside the water, too.
He always held the same book in his hand
though his feelings for it were ever-new.
The last time we met, he read me a line
about how life is good though not fair.
He had more to read, but ran out of time.
They’re floating down the river somewhere.
Even in the brightest field, the sun still sets
as each droplet finds its waterfall.
And the people you meet just turn people you’ve met
as time rages through a narrow hall.
So savor each song you sing, each kiss you receive.
You never get a second or a spare.
Though you go away, you never quite leave.
You just float down the river somewhere.
Photo by John Doyle on Unsplash
