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.
365 Short Memories 