by Beth Vesseur27 Feb 2014
Sitting on the stones,feet deep in the water
Little fish curious, swimming, in silence
in their watery world, effortless at peace.
Lost in thoughts, with nature in guidance...
Pure air around, soothing music of a willow
A Heron searching for its dinner in the shallow
Mirrored on the water, a coloured shadow play.
A sweet breeze, ripples lake surface, follows;
Sends coolness, also love to my heart
of untold, ancient stories of golden eras...
Darkness is about to fall, all birds part
for the night, scary sightings of ghosts,
emerging from the lake, swaying with ease
making my heart cold, my body to stone begot.
To interrupt their rhythm one agrees in
telling them the story of the Lady of Shalott...
It breaks my heart thinking about her
even though a leading part of a poem.
She lives on, weaving on my mind, never
looking outside ever again in her forever
beautiful world with magic mirror, reflects
each passerby, sadness in her eyes dignified.
One look at Sir Lancelot then her life exalts
And 'The mirror crack'd from side to side'...
It is now dark, still shadows on the water,
Soundless, eerie yet the fear has quietly left.
On my mind, her last song reaching my ear
Touching my soul her last breath, life bereft.
Keep telling myself: this is a lake, not a river.
Makes no difference, feeling the same shiver.
Her darkening eyes, her blood freezing, dying,
Uncontrollable sobs, in melancholy I am crying.