It turned out to be a day just like this one--
The sky that impossible September blue,
And the summer growing sleepy, as if June, July and August had been a long luxurious meal.
You lay your clothes carefully on the wet grass of the bank,
Like a blanket over a sleeping child.
As you stepped into water and fog,
What was it you hoped to find as the chill found your ankles, your knees, your shoulders?
Why didn't I wake up?
Why didn't you come find me, and crawl in beside me, still wearing your chains and charms from the night before?
How could I not have been there when the water fanned your hair?
I could not help and will never understand.
Each year I watch the water darken these poems as I sail them across this accommodating element
To one whose heart has always been
And will always be
Twin to my own.