Authored: April 28, 2018

I went to the river to meet you
by the fallen oak behind the old house,
sweet nothings from the rippling stars,
petals of a kiss dying in your whisper
as we followed the water.
drowned in the streams
to wake loud shores
stepping into thought, as you swam
with the swans into distant dreams.

As the winds caress the field of barley and sugarcane
As your fingers slide across the tops
You will feel a breath on the back of your neck
A whisper, a jolting remembrance.