Paper Boats

I'm drawn to the glade side brook
which had eavesdropped
on our serenading nook,
when blades of grass
stroked intimate poems
on our skins.

I now cleanse all moss
on the stone washed bank
and scribble our duets
on paper boat quills
drifting on goose bumps
beneath my tweeds.

While the wind dies down
from my quickening breath
the paper boats drown
in my misty gaze,
before I retreat
to my lonesome glade.