329. That night on the riverbank.

Stroll to the night river

Difficult, overgrown.

Riverbank

By day, verdant.

Canopied, vines threading thick

Under-foot, wild growth.

At night, eerie beauty.

We take that stroll.

Easing down the steep path

I take her arm.

Gesture accepted.

Am I trembling?

Or is that tremor the shaky movement of time stopped?

The riverbank – today it looks manicured, then it was wild growth.