East,
you’re pointed
at the river’s end,
where no bridge stands connected,
and water, like rolling plains,
laps at the shoreline,
bringing hope,
peace.

Peace
comes in waves
and empathic links,
true to these felt surroundings
which are seen in shades of blue,
mock versions of sky,
with jet trail
tales.

Tales
told over
and over once more,
in cyclic patterns per evening,
and final chapters per twilight.
never getting old,
never straying
far.