Rocks and Puddles

A river flows in a tender surrender
and whilst trees look on, leafy tears kiss the banks.
There, we stroll through the plains of this Winter;
with the thunder of clouds breaking over our backs.
Can you hear the sounds of the sky as it falters,
or the weight of the heavens perching down on our necks?
Should you dry these eyes with a fluid ensemble,
or just wait for this rain to give thanks to regret?
Yet the moon tries hard to send light to our ground,
but the brightness she borrows is, by life, bound.
The slivers of sand where gold used to be
are slowly ebbed away - from river to sea.
Still, you stroll and smile with 'I love you' on those lips;
the blue of your eyes like skies over cliffs.
You waltz through the rain like it were gentle and warm,
as I struggle and freeze: reasoning with this storm.
I reach for all I can as these flood waters rise:
any floating straw, leaf, litter or lie.
I'm so far away - barred by countries and shores:
"Rocks and puddles, my love, and nothing more".