No Matter How Deep

No Matter How Deep

This is a hand that takes the shape of holding
To take the form of every precious moment
Into itself to keep each instance bright

And each significant one held so close,
Still clutched so tight. Unwilling to release
To watch the moment falling slowly down

Into the river. Flowing time that churns
Beneath this bridge, then lost. All swept
Away, as passing days all roar on by

Below us. Racing down towards that sea
Of ages. Taking every river filled
With flowing days far down and deep

Within itself. It takes all we have lost
On down, into its deepest depths. Too far
Away from any reaching swimmer’s hand.

 

Published by David Hadley

A Bloke. Occasionally points at ducks.

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