
Even as you rode in your paper boat
your river was of your purple dreams.
Your eyes, soft but alert, were focused still
on a distant star in a blue heaven.
Still a child at heart, you were ever the antinomy
of whatever name they stuck to the shimmering mirror that was your face.
And you rode alone; insisted on riding alone;
insisted on keeping your space untrammeled by alien shadows.
You had a fear that if you allowed me by your side
the boat would capsize, and you wouldn't be able to take me back to the shore.
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