i would be lying if i said that i desired dormancy from you.

more accurate would be to say that i simply came to expect it.

i am raindrops when you least expect them,
and yet i have found that you are always dressed
in raincoats.
so why answer me now?

i am pond water too still even for my own good,
and yet i have found that stillness is not a cause for concern when you are looking the other way.
so why answer me now?

i am a river nearly overflowing with words i wish i could have said to you.
and you put your hand to my quivering mouth and ask me, in a language you don't understand, to open up,
to let forth my second-guessed whirlpools,
my unspoken swells,
my half-formed waves -- thoughts with solemn crests but no trough to match.
but no.
i keep quiet.
i keep calm.
i let forth only a dribble, and then a steady flow.

you want to bathe in old times' sake,
and i let you.

i am a river
but i was building a dam for myself before you came back around,
and now?

and now?

my ebb and flow keep time with the movements of your lips and the curling of your smile.

the fish i hold are showpieces, my oysters child-bearers that lift their most beautiful pearls up to the sun so that you might see them.

the path i follow is marked solely by your footsteps.

i never really understood the concept of manmade rivers until now.

but you,
harvest moon high,
you fall and rise without even the slightest inkling
that i fall and rise right with you.

i keep quiet.
i keep calm.
i let forth only a dribble, and then a steady flow.

but sooner or later i will be empty all the same.

(a.m.)