3.30.91

Old Boat

 

Let's take the boat out one more time, row on down

to the end of the lake where the marshes rise up.

We could sit awhile before winter sets in.

The ice is paper thin today, thinner than glass;

it won't get much in the way of my rowing.

We could take a thermos,

sit and listen for the wind in the rushes,

just sit, when we get there, and not talk much

Oh, I know. You'd get cold. You always do. But I

could hold you close, warm your hand in mine. You could

Wear your long coat. Bring a scarf. If the sun shines

it will warm the day; if the breeze runs down from the

south.

We could pretend we were old and in love, like Fonda and Hepburn.

 

I know. We're both too busy. You live in the town.

You were always the practical one.

Getting that heavy old boat down from its crutches and

into the water would be hard.

But it would have been good to take the old boat out, get the oars,

and row on down to the end of the lake just one more time.

 

 

Roy Nilson

December, 1990