The snow fell. We were running around the creek,
washing our faces in the icy water. It tasted like
dreams and tragedies in the making.

The old man sitting on the shore, staring in the sky,
never knew that we filled up his coat pockets with stones
and tied his shoelaces together.

Then he disappeared like all the things disappear
if you stare long enough at them. An old woman
appeared with white hair who caressed our heads,
but she too vanished into thin air.

Then we saw them, walking hand in hand,
towards the edge of the abyss. Frightened,
we started to cry and we embraced each other
and we turned into salty stones, which to this day
the sheep lick after they quench their thirst
with water.

# # #
Peycho Kanev is the author of 4 poetry collections and two chapbooks, published in the USA and Europe. He has won several European awards for his poetry and his poems have appeared in many literary magazines, such as: Poetry Quarterly, Evergreen Review, Front Porch Review, Hawaii Review, Barrow Street and many others.

Photo: Dirk Dreyer www.dreyerpictures.com