If You Ever Come Here

When I am here, I wonder
if you ever come here,
or even just drive by.
I wonder if, like me
you sit and listen to the brook
gargle and swallow endlessly.
Do you lift rocks to see
what resides underneath?
You did that with me,
you know, and uninterested, you left
me turned over and sought other rocks.

If you do ever come here,
for whatever reason, and rest
on this very stone, look to your
left. For there, is some curled
birch bark on which I have written
"I love you."

For there, is your heart.
(You may keep it. I've no
use for it anymore.)