The Confluence
We were rapids and falls,
two deep streams moving
into each other.
Rivers run, but we tumbled
and churned
until at last
we became a confluence,
not exactly oil meeting water,
but there was a separation
while we mingled.
When passion ran dry
we did not proclaim a 'goodbye,'
we just dipped a bucket of self
into that turbulence
and kept that essence
in a fishbowl of old memories.
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