stumbling down sunday stairs
I hear an echo of once was
and we might have been
I used to dream of futures golden
with sunlight in my eyes
and your lips brushing mine
day after day after always

the gap of dreaming and doing
falls too wide when we cut
the legs out from under our futures
by living each day like the desperate last

were we not then like two ships
passing in the night
close enough that the riven sea swells
of our voyaging met in the empty center
but we missed the true mark
of one another and continued alone
silent in the dark

you suffer your days now on land
and do not even venture to shore
for fear of what truth it might offer
or what desire might slide by tide to your feet
but your memories still echo deep and incessant
with every stream and lake and river
with all the things that you cannot leave behind
you will always need water in your veins