Each time I come to this place, this side of the river, I
realize what’s been lost, even when I cannot see it floating on the surface; it
is always out of reach, so, I stand and stare, thinking it will never come back,
never be again part of my life, and I am helpless to do anything about it – she
having already severed whatever connection I might have hoped for; I am like a
kid with a kite that has fallen into the middle of the river, and sank, with
only the strings still attached to my fingers; it won’t ever fly again, even
though I can almost see if, rippling under the surface until it eventually
disappears. The tides won’t bring it back, nor wishing for it, and as hard as I
tug on the strings, I come up empty, no way to know how she feels about it all,
whether she blames me – did I pull to hard to get the kite to fly? Did I try to
fly too high? Did I expect too much from it, for it to do more than it’s
capable of, or as there a flaw in the design, making it destined to crash?
I come to the edge of this river to find out why.
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