waterpath

I loved you, so I constructed
a riverbed of stones and broken glass.
I built it so we could walk unhindered among the
reflected sunlight and under waxy cottonwood leaves.
As you see, the limbs tremble in the breeze. The sun
glints from veined leaf, water-worn stone, and fragments of colored bottles.
We walk hand in hand. The air is right, the light is the same. Our hearts breathe
together. All life, all memories, come unbidden and unfold before us. What we were
answers to who we are. These images pass on either side, like a grove of planted trees.
We move through and continue. We reach a spot beyond which the riverbed continues but
its form is foreign to me. I did not build it, and do not know its lay. The stones and the glass
are here. And the leaves, too, in their greenness.