I have not seen you for years.
I write this poem for you
and no one hears its brevity
as the words go across
the page and down.

In a dream, I found
myself attempting to cross
a fallen tree over Old Seventy
Creek to get to you
in the dark, I imagine, with tears,

streaming down your cheek,
for I hear you sobbing,
but I do not get to you,
for I fall off and down,
though I do not hit the water.