The river's song in moonlight fell,
A tale she'd weave, a secret spell.
Her waters shimmered, soft and wide,
But she was not to be my bride.

She danced beneath the stars so free,
A silver thread through hill and tree.
I walked her banks in soft embrace,
Yet knew I'd never claim her grace.

Her whispers called me every night,
A gentle pull, a soft delight.
We were the same, her voice would say—
Two travelers, doomed to travel alone.

Though I adored her boundless current,
To clutch at her brilliance wasn't my part.
Her beauty was wild and born to wander,
Her heart a rhythm and her soul a psalm.

And so I watched as she sailed off to sea,
Her waters glimmer till morning be. In her, I found a tender reprieve—
Gladness of love, the beauty of letting go.