"The Watcher’s Lament " pt¹

I saw the branches bend not break and called it strength. I mistook stillness for peace, and silence for stone. He wore dusk like a second skin, but I praised the gold that never came. I traced the river’s edge but never asked where it led. His eyes two locked doors and I, without the will to knock. He offered no flame, but I expected warmth. Held out empty hands, and flinched when they returned the same. I spoke of stars, and he stared at the soil. I didn’t ask why. I didn’t dig.