A lazy Saturday afternoon sitting on the couch feet on the ottoman listening carelessly to lady friends watching her preparing tea snow flakes quiet dance
Something broke
Heard it the next morning felt it, in my soul and insatiable need to cry
In the depth of your eyes I see the brown of an exhausted river that once proudly filled its banks I hear fishermen songs as they sail contently and I ask their ghosts How do you sail back to your lovers on the shores of a dried river?