We walk hand in hand in the peace of the morning. The river flows and reminds us of times past. We haven’t forgotten, but we have forgiven. For us, forgiveness has long been our way to give thanks. After all, the monsters are dead and we are alive, at least alive enough to admire the blue sky reflected in the calm water.
Weekly Writing Prompt #120
Near the river,
which was, back then,
the divide, or near enough,
the link between our lost past and
our uncertain future,
we listened to her,
teach us to go back in time,
and learn from our mistakes.
Image: Time Warp, by Craig Sunter, from Manchester, UK
I know I stopped near the river, and I waited. I waited for you, as I admired the bridge, and its reflection, slowly captivated by the ripples on the surface of the water. When did I arrive here? How long ago was it? I only know that the colours of the leaves changed at least once. And, always, the ripples, hardly disrupting the peace.
Will you come, or have you decided it was time to leave, to leave me to this world, to the flow of time? Is this perfect oval the Eye of destiny, observing me, as I observe the river?