That sultry day,
summer’s waning light,
its grasp weary,
anticipated death.
I didn’t know it at the time,
but watched you melting in its haze,
thoughtful, with your oars,
each fading cell a ghost on rolling glass,
hushed waves.
No sorrow in your silence,
you seemed content to sway,
and drift to shore,
a thousand miles away.
©2025
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