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Of Dancing Moons and Golden Waters


Of our town, little is spoken,
ours is, after all, a small hamlet
with nothing we can boast of
but a small lake, in the midst of our houses of clay
and muddy paths, yet unlike us
this lake is rich, unlike us,
this lake is most gracious, most pure. 
At day, when the regular Sun visits us, our only tourist
the lake glimmers, almost in delight of welcoming it,
the water shines in an almost blinding flash of gold and
the surface of the lake is instantly lit up, and we poor people
huddle around the only gold in all our town. 
Beauty abounds in this lake, holds it no fish, nor grasses
and we don't swim in it, nor do we touch its holy waters,
yet this lake is so very special, much like a cherubic child,
of whom the world expects nothing but that marvellous, pure smile,
oblivious, innocent, unharmed. 
And when night abounds, and the skies turn all dark,
and when tne stars appear, shy in the presence of
the shining moon, yet again, the lake dances.
Now she is resplendent in an enchanting veil of
white, pure white, which in this dark canvas of night seems
like a sad princess, dancing till the recesses of night in all her
latent glory. 
We marvel at the ripples our feet form,
at once the perfect face of the moon is flattened
then the it shrinks, and circles of
delicate white encompass the vastness
of our beautiful, beautiful lake.

2nd April, 2019
Contest: Intensity 
Sponsor: Julia Ward

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