Old man in the night, on the banks of the river, carefully looks about, no one must see him in this deadly serious, childish play.
In a white wax paper pastry bag, he gently places the memories, slippery feelings, a handful of tears, an abundance of joy and a little, lit tea candle.
Bending he delicately places it upon the water, as though it were some priceless thing and he sits hands folded in lap, feet out,
on the river bank. watching the white bag as it dims and drifts away.