Poetry

Sunday, 23 November 2025

A river runs through it

 I just throw down the mantel of adulthood

When I remember the way

We used to be

When you were my brother

And we would run and play games in the street

I wish that I had been able to love you

Better than I have loved you since

But then the river ran through our childhood

And it was too late for our separate streams

To meet

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