lights on the water

you tell someone
as you walk
along
the river that
the lights
on the water
make
you think of her.
the missed
chance,
the light
that went out.
the empty
hand.
the shell you
hold to
your ear
and hear the wind
that's been
captured
is like not hearing
her voice again.
then someone
says
there will be
other ships,
other lights,
you'll see,
and you reply
with yes,
there will be,
but not hers.