Brandenburg Creek

Coins in the river gleam
and stare right back at me,
their faces I have memorized
through mud and worn debris.

I tossed them in, in hopes that I
might reach beyond the sky,
to send a message back to him
till Fate’s dark door comply.

What superstition still resides
in me I cannot tell,
but this shall be my final stand,
my final wretched spell.

To him, my love, I cannot say
the words I long to speak,
as he has passed the border that
I fear I cannot reach.

I sit here at the base of this,
a wretched, filthy creek,
as I long to be with you again
on sandy, scorching beach.

But alas, if only it were so
and you had not been taken,
then I would not be sitting here,
my heart and soul forsaken.


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