Moonlight

Plop.

Ripples emanate from where it fell,

disrupting the otherwise tranquil surface.

The wood creaks in protest as I take a step.

Even the old bridge can tell something is wrong.

As the ripples slowly vanish, the moon becomes clearer,

its fullness reflected on the lake.

But this escapes my eye.

I see neither reality nor its reflection

for my gaze is fixed far away.

Plop. Plop.

Another two fall behind me.

The ripples obscure the clear night sky.

Another creak, angrier this time,

accompanies another step, just as foolish.

This used to be our favorite place in the world.

I can’t even count the nights…

I stop, but my gaze does not waver.

Too afraid to break the silence again, too afraid to look back.

Plop. Plop.

This time her tears are too loud to ignore

as they break both the surface of the water and the silence of the night.

 For years, a child had stood in this same spot every night and gazed into that lake.

And now that child, who fancies himself a man, can’t even brave a glance.

It is too late for words, and neither of us tries.

I finally work up the courage to look back,

but her head is tilted away, her long hair blocking her face.

Seeing her like this, leaning on the railing of this bridge,

with her hair dangling as it reaches towards the water,

I wish I could turn back.

I wish I had turned back.