by Erin
Written August 2006

Remind me not to build bridges,
because I’m too scared to cross.
Look what it’s done.
Global warming can grow the sea,
but coldness can do the same.

I can see you from here,
a river flows between.
A cold mist envelops the air,
and I won’t even dip my feet.
How deep is the water?

You’re drowning slowly,
and I want to save you.
But I’m too paralyzed and dumb.
You’re being swallowed alive,
and I just watch.

Through strangling silent sobs,
I pray for your return.
God knows I won’t come to you,
though I want to.
Salvage all that the river consumed.

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