Beauty

Deep in a forest a river flows and there floats Ophelia, in death- There is a deep silence, a hush and beauty in the landscape, deep green water grass and drifting jade moss so soft and delicate like satin it seems- The water is dark and deep and sinister yet the scene is one of peace- Foliage lush and overgrown hangs over the river and an old tree leans into the water and growing everywhere are yellow buttercups purple nettle and white daisies- Ophelia holds a bouquet in one hand the other she holds up where once flowers she held the colorful blooms represent beauty and immortality- Her rich brocade dress is sodden and heavy now and her beautiful face sees only heaven- Oh, my painters hand wants to continue to paint the beautiful decaying and ever blooming forest oh, over here more ferns . . . more red poppies.. some purple, some white more, more, more- My hand is an extension of my mind, I have lost control, time is nothing, time is suspended and I paint . . . and my pseudo shall be Beauty- _______________________________ June 19, 2017 Poetry/Free Verse/Beauty Copyright Protected, ID 17-1224-850-01 All Rights Reserved. Written under Pseudonym. Submitted to Strand Select L sponsor, Brian Strand Third Place