between us.
I look to my shore, you to yours,
We meet at intervals
of wind at war.
As sky light fades
and melts to sea
We dine on stars
(or crystal words)
We walk on rocks
(or salt sea shells) -
You talk of you, I of me,
and learn nothing
in between;
For I am you, and you are me,
but the river is too wide
for us to see.
Image: Claude-Oscar Monet's 'The Beach at Trouvile', 1870
