2 September 2018

By Philip Kuepper

I watched the rowboat
move down the river,
like a tear down a face.

Why a tear?
Because, that instant,
my memory transported me

back, sixty years,
to when I was ten,
and watching a rowboat

move, like a smile,
across the face of the lake
where we vacationed summers.

Yet, why a tear?
Because, with a suddenness beyond fathoming,
a feeling of sadness enwrapped me

that my life was passing
down time’s scowling rapids.

(16 August 2018)