The river laments for the shore. Stones have sorrow for the sky. People cross the lines they’ve drawn for themselves all the time. I know I shouldn’t but just this one time, they say. I’ll make up for it tomorrow. And never do it again.
Sand grieves for the mountains. Clouds agonize over what will happen to the stars.
We sob for who we though we’d be. Wear black veils and place pennies on the closed eyes of our childhood dreams. We dance, whirling and desperate, along with the dirge.
We mouth insincere eulogies to our convictions in the mirror.