River Light 3/5/2007

Walking across to crease these single rock cuts
is when I canít seem to get past the touch of you
the way it brings me up again against these hard crushed stones
the way it was when you used to wait for me or turned to walk away

not walking beside me any more to see the way this deep white river flows
into its own living, or the way this few minutesí quiet miracle pool
does not reflect grey sky any longer, where once we
used to wait for each other, or walked beneath this cool and rising rain.

We might have tried to come here earlier to find out
how to love each other again against these harsh and chiming stones
or to find how singly the way they grow so beautifully together
has come to be so alive now, and left us all alone.

Poetry by William F. Buford
Copyright © 2004-2007 William F. Buford. All Rights Reserved.