Sitting by a Waterfall in New York

5/11/11

Sitting by a Waterfall in New York

Rushing water meets the rocks

Like hands grasping longing hands,

Then splashes into the air.

The river does not emit a gentle chatter,

A soft murmur here and there,

But roars, wild like a lion,

And I miss her.

The trees are long and tall,

Leaves are like her hair,

But they are not her hair,

And I miss her.

The Lethe flows before me,

And I dare not jump or fall

Into its savage arms,

Grasping, splashing into the air.

I can almost see her

Standing across the liquid road

In her long, love-red gown ---

Her eyes are the skies,

The clouds are her brows,

The trees are her legs,

The rocks are her toes,

Drenched in the river.

The water rushes fast

And I miss her.