In my canoe I traverse forests,

Passing broken branches,

Leaves floating

Like detached limbs

Of a forgotten whole,

Whispers of a soul

In mosses green, and gray.

I trace within the mist

A shadow of a kiss

And reflect upon waters

Too crowded for my thoughts.

With an oar in hand,

I sweep the sleep from the surface

And shake cold memories awake.

While regrets tremble in my throat,

Then sink

Like neglected boots

On a Summer’s eve.

I breathe.

I keep rowing.