The Edge of Dreaming River

You are leaving, he said to me,

and never again shall we see each other.

What am I going to do? And what

will you do, when we are far apart?

We sat at the edge of Dreaming River,

letting our bare legs dangle

in that green and rushing stream.

The clouds were swift, blown sideways.

I shall have my flask of green water

gathered from Dreaming River. I shall drink

drop by drop the memories of me and you,

and I shall not thirst, I said.

The clouds in the sky became

even frothier clouds in the river.

On the edge of the water, gripping

the grass tussocks, he saw this and swore.

I want to go too, he said. I want to go

far from here, as you can do —

but me, I'm eternally caught.

He glared at the clouds as they raced away.

I shall come back, I promised, after one year

and one day. Watch as the clouds pass over.

You will see me flying back to you. Only wait.

Meet me at the edge of Dreaming River.

But when I returned in a year and a day,

he never looked or saw. His gaze

was turned towards a laughing woman

who led him away from Dreaming River.

That edge, I heard her say, is dangerous.

One day, she said, you could fall

and be submerged in the green water.

She danced him away from the edge.

I am watching the clouds as they scud

sideways in front of the river wind. I am

dangling my legs in deep green water,
dreaming, at the edge of Lonely River.


Note: A fictional imagining, not autobiography!

The latest Play It Again at imaginary garden with real toads, asks us to revisit a previous challenge. I chose In Other Words from Jan. 15 2015, which asked poets to take a book title which already used words in unusual combination, and replace some words with others, also unexpected. I Turned The City of Dreaming Books into The Edge of Dreaming River.