Solitude
Melancholy moonbeams cascade
over a lattice of canopies
of the overhanging trees,
like millions of sparkling snakes
slithering over the surface
of the silent water of the lake.
A sense of bodeful uneasiness
flood into my solitary soul;
When love is lost
No one and nothing could hurt more,
No one and nothing pleases ever.
In how many varied places
do I profess my love?
In how many ways
do I proclaim my love?
A quivering blanket of mist
stealthily envelopes the grassy plain
drawing me into its rapture.
~03/30/22
~Contest: A Brian Strand Premier Choice.
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