TRYST

A moonlit Autumn evening
Waiting alone beside the river
No birdsong disturbs the air
A faint whisper of cloud

Gathers a handful of stones
Shies them skipping
Reflecting
Musing
Just how much water
Has passed under her bridge
Since they last met?

A rustle in the bushes
But no one emerges
Checks the time
Gives a deep sigh
Turns and walks away
Disappointment

Or else relief?