The Confluence

A mighty river,
a flowing handsome
mass,
And a coy rivulet, smitten by him,
Have a story to tell, so lo and behold.

She raced to touch him,
To slide over his highs and lows,
She danced on alluvial banks with joy,
As she neared him;
Foaming, rippling over the pebbles,

And the time came,
The river ever so stoic,
And she, her eccentric heart beats,
the waves touched the sky;
And the thoughts overflowed,
filled in the dark crevices on the land;

And in a confluence,
When the waters were one,
Her warmth simmered his cool waters,
And her gait, gave an impetus,
To his monotony.

But fate had something else in plan,
In a trifle, a tumult,
They diverged,
She tried hard to hold on,
Clasped his hands tight,
But suddenly felt something amiss,
His grip wasn’t firm,
And as the warmth rose in her,
She realised that it was always her who wanted this.

So she let go, slowly,
And the waters parted,
So did their ways;
She didn’t weep, she was strong,
And sometimes, letting go is strength.