There’s a girl not long dead who rests
down by the water’s edge.
Her final words were, “ Please. I won’t tell—I —.”
She never did get the second half
of her sentiment out.
I made sure she never will.
Some things are best left unsaid, I think.
In the end, it didn’t matter anyhow.
I knew she wouldn’t tell.
And she knew it too.
* * *
There’s a girl who rests
down by the water’s edge.
She was young, but you
and the water washed it all away.
Sometimes I don’t get why you
do the things you do.
But you like it that way— and in a sense, I do too.
* * *
