Amigo Mío

My friend, since time was time, you sow pebbles where the sun is lead and the dust of the road is so thick that it muddies the song. If, as you gently bend around a bend towards the sea, you see the eyes of that girl, stop your waters and ask her if she remembers me. If you see her in spring, run with her through the wheat fields, picking poppies, oats, and grass to decorate the vase next to her bed. If you see her in summer, run her dry and warm hand, cradle it in your fresh river arms. And come back to tell me.
My friend. If, as you gently bend around a bend towards the sea, you see the eyes of that girl, stop your waters and ask her if she remembers me. If you see her in autumn, when it makes you wide and deep and dreams of fallow land, tell her that I carry her like the thistle, caught in the hair, the soul, the belly, and the eyes. If you see her in winter, dressed in her white and icy gown, make sure she doesn't feel cold at night. And come back to tell me.
My friend.