Do you see my eyes
in the arches of the bridge,
my head outlined
by spare, broken branches?

I watch

You pressed a hand to the stripped bark
of the tree that describes
the curve of my cheek;
I felt you do it

I wait

You pass the fallen statue
of some forgotten hero
at my heart
but you never see me

I learn

that for you, I am just
a place to pass through
a clearing
on your way to better spaces

I forgive

In time, you might return
to where you can see
the brick-walled city,
golden, from my banks

I say farewell

There'll be others, perhaps
who'll pass this way
through the woods,
pressing their hands to my face

I yearn

for someone who will see me,
know me,
whisper my name,
make me real.