Richard C. White

The Waterfall

We walked through the wooded park.

The greens and browns of the trees

complemented your black hair,

pale skin and deep brown eyes.

The dark, gray path of dirt

led through the green grass

where so many had walked before us.

Enjoying each other’s company, we seldom spoke.

These walks were comfortable.

We simply were ourselves,

asking no more than that.

Your easy smile

made the woods seem new

each time we walked down the path.

Reaching the point where we usually turned around,

we paused, unsure.

Something seemed different today.

Then, in unspoken agreement,

we pushed forward,

off the path

and into the unknown.

What would this uncharted territory reveal?

How easy it was to be fearless then.

Your sense of adventure

was matched by my own.

In the stillness, we heard it.

Realizing what it was,

we drew near.

Bathed in green light through the leaves,

a waterfall rushed down a small cliff.

It wasn’t much of a waterfall,

not much taller than the two of us.

Its water glistened

before crashing onto the rocks below,

then flowing in a small, swift stream

toward a farmer’s fields beyond the woods.

Captivated, we stood there,

shoulder to shoulder,

ignoring the passage of time

and the real world.

As I glanced at you,

            I knew you shared the same thought.