Go as a River

by Shelley Read

love is a private matter, to be nurtured, and even mourned, between two beings alone. It belongs to them and no one else, like a secret treasure, like a private poem.

Then he stood and eyed me so long I thought I’d melt like chocolate in the last rays of sun reaching low across the porch.

“I’ll go as a river,” said Wil. “My grandfather always told me that it’s the only way.”