It feels as though time has ripped
Although
For the better
or for the bitter
I have no inkling
whatsoever
I only know that
Nothing shall ever be
as it was
in memory

Yet waters still and whispering
call for me on dragon's wings
I push the skiff out from the cove
through grassy fronds jutting near haunted trees, tall and old
And in the voice of birds and frogs
A gentle nudge to paddle on