Is it the coffee or the rushing river?

What I am,

passes me  in a race down stream,

a pace with no spaces, no time to think

The momentary molecule bursts over my head

Tears of wonder

There is nothing to hold onto.

 

Chloe cut her foot last night

and needed stitches to keep her toe.

My mother died from  a similar injury.

And just last week,

we put her ashes into the gulf stream.

A quick trip around the world.

 

We can’t hold the moment or each other for  very long

The unwilling hand opens

to rest upon the heart

While the opposite hand reached upward

Signaling  “Victory”