just a row boat.
wooden, with two oars.
old seats, the paint peeling.
a small leak
or two.
the water sloshing around
our bare feet.
the little boat we once
loved has seen
better days.
in the old days we'd be
there in twenty minutes to
the other shore.
we row, her on one oar
and me on the other.
there's an ice cream shop
across the pond.
we can almost taste the cold
sweetness on
our tongues.
but we go in circles now, never
arriving to the other side.
we're different now.
things have changed, our love
has faded,
our arms have grown
tired.
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