the rushing of time beneath this bridge

you are across the way.
opposite banks. we willingly crossed that bridge,
treacherous water beneath.

we idealized its ease;
surely
we will shout across the rushing stones and laps of water
perhaps send a paper airplane
or a bottle.

in reality
there are nose-dives and crashes
or
much too much noise to be heard

the banks are receding
            like my heart

the chilly water is encroaching,
drowning my skin.

can you hear?

my cry echos off rocks
to fall like silent dew upon
your shoulders
its desperation muted by
the rushing
      the rushing of time

the bank is steeping.

my recollection of

why

why we chose this path
is crumbling with
the dirt

what if
i found the courage
to escape, to extricate myself
to explore a
field of brightly lit poppies?

but then

i could not guide the landing of
your message
and i could not shout across the way