The River Mouth

I saw you down by the River Mouth.
Bleeding old poetry,
onto pages that will never come Alive.
Your small Hand submerged Beneath the water.
I know what you Feel now.
That cold rush, of Your Life
running through Your fingertips.
The Mountain air,
Plunging into your lungs like a dagger.
I didn't know, whether to Yell,
or stay quiet.
I just sifted pebbles in My Hand.