"I felt the last day in my bones,"
he said, before he left me by the water.
He felt the war raging in his blood
before they raised their swords to the sky.
He knew something I did not, something,
an idea clinging to the edge of the lake
as we swam and tried to forget.
But he could not forget, nor rest,
nor see past the on-coming battle.
I struggled to make him relax, but
it is not in his nature to forget.
He ran off without a word,
only an utterance of "warnings."
Warnings? I feel those, as well.
One in my heart saying "run,
run away, don't wait to watch him die."
But what choice do I have?
He will leave and I will remain
forever young, forever reflecting on
the moonlight on the water.
Moonlight on the Water