Wednesday, July 13, 2011

What it washed over

(Pre-Script: This post is best paired with the song, "Between the lines," #27 on the playlist. Go down to the playlist, click on that song, then come back and resume reading. I'll wait...)(...still waiting...)

Do you remember that place on the river
the children waded while we watched and rested
I think there was river glass,
I think there were cheese itz
(I didn't know what I was doing, but neither did you)

I know the sun was just warm enough,
and it glinted off the water in splotches
that looked like glory,
and I thought to myself that we
were touching heaven-
did I ever tell you that, or did I just think it?
And then there were the storms,
so unexpected in late spring-
I don't remember them well;
just, they blended, just, they were cold-
I remember a lot of cold-
and beneath the cold, some parts
that I wish to forget, I WISH
to only remember the reflection of the water, not
what it covered over, not
what it washed away, before the washing away-
Remember going back to the place, the exact same place
but the storm had blown it over,
we had to dig a difficult path through
fallen down trees that had stood for ages
it wasn't the same
(but what ever is)
the tide was high,
the beach was mostly gone,
but I remember I

did find a rock that day-
perfectly hand sized, smooth from years of being brushed under water,
and I did find a thick piece of river glass, with 2 letters
pressed into it,
which is a rare find, maybe
once in a lifetime.


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