The rift

I stand at the shoreline
You sit, discontent in that rickety little boat
It rocks, dangerously, at your shifting weight
Rippling water currents draw you slowly out
Swiftly, you drift further into unknown waters
Receding from my vantage point
There’s no goodbye, no salutations at all
Just a distance increasing
I wade in, willing myself to swim to you
But I cannot
So I stand waste deep in the sludge
Silently willing you to paddle back
Oblivious to my mental pleading, still further the rift grows

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