I hold you in my hands.
In a Ziploc bag.
Christmases, birthdays, clambakes,
33 years.
In a Ziploc bag.
I’ve never been here,
But you have.
You sat on the rocks in your wedding dress.
As the water rushed by,
Your smile full of love,
One chapter ending,
The rest of your life beginning right here,
On the rocks.
Now, your next chapter starts,
on the rocks.
I carefully step out onto the rocks,
To the middle of the stream.
I’ll never let you go,
Ever.
But I will let you be.
For you are somewhere I do not know.
Yes, you are firmly in my hands,
In a Ziploc bag.
But you are free.
So, I empty the bag.
As far as I can see,
You are just dust in a stream.
I know it’s more than that.
Heading out to sea.
Joining up with the roots of all these barren trees.
Still, there’s something so simple,
So robustly serene.
Your life floating by
As dust in a stream.