Cold, ***** water
rushing through
our small wooded ravine
on such a bitter day,
the wind blown rain
made worse by shocking cool air

oh, what do you tell yourself
on such a nasty day
to keep your mind fresh
and alive

do you hear the faint whispers
which follow you
endlessly
beckoning you to listen
but, out of earshot,
as if by some mad design -
seeming out of your hands,

but, wait
don't leave me now
without listening,
I want so bad for you
to understand,

oh, go then
in your empty hurry,
racing only yourself,
you fool -
I wanted to give you my heart