they fall away

you went down
to the stream
once, when you
were madly in
love and carved
her name into
a tree
next to your name.
it took an hour, at
least, the sharp rock
in your hand, the cold
air, your feet slipping
in the soft sand.
the name was long
with many vowels
and consonants.
she may have been
italian, or polish,
it's all blurry,
but you see the tree
has toppled in
the wind now, lying
in the water,
uprooted by time
and weather. staring
ou the window,
you vow to only
fall in love
with women with
shorter names now,
or to maybe just
carve their initials
and be done with it.