Long ago I crossed the sweet river
that marked the outer border of your heart.
I filled my empty skins from that river
and sang the song for going away.
In that cold water a part of me was
carried from my shoulders by the current.
Perhaps you watched me slide from the back
of my weary pony and gaze across the years toward you.
Mayhap the wind carried some of my
long forgotten words to your ears.
I have not spoken the old words aloud
since that day I crossed your border
and disappeared into the waiting day.