The river

Happy in our summer sleeves and loudmouthed hopes

The river bullies, menacingly.
Ready to pounce,
submerging those frail,
failing or sensitive.

Here, once, we walked,
happy in our summer sleeves and
loudmouthed hopes.

We were caught off guard 
as time’s tributaries
drained away our dreams,
imperceptibly.

We could not stem the flow.
Attrition is invisible
or overlooked.

Perhaps we simply lost
what it was to be young.
or just forgot,
too naive, or cross.

Looking, now, at youth’s beautiful irreverence
we are flooded with a tidal rage.
From low quagmire to high surface-sucking current.

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