Rivers Ran Deep

Foreign tongue and broken verse, you’re whispering in my ear just low enough for the piano now. It’s a distant melody, played slowly and framed in various shades of gray, portraits of dark mahogany or expensive cherry; the landscape made itself and I was there with you for a moment, and it was startling to remember the cobwebs. Dusty silk glistened in lacking light.

In one instant I saw your face and remembered the laughter and looked out upon the sunrise through carefully sculpted concrete; in the next, you are a different language and I cannot see your face. I thought I’d know your eyes anywhere, but even that didn’t stick to the wrinkles like stray strands. We wrote this years ago. Laughter echoing off the barn doors. Maybe we always knew.