The River by the Wood

The River by the Wood

Once, a long, long time ago
The moon saw her reflection
In the river by the wood
And fell in love.
She had no way of knowing
It was her own and regal face gazing up at her,
She was only sure this creature of mystery and light was meant to be her lover,
And she was lost
She has fought to conquer
The thunderbolt of kismet,
From that day to this,
She has been pale and wan with unrequited passion
For all this time,
She has eaten recklessly, in empty desperation, until she has grown large and round with sorrow
Or simply refused to let a single star pass her lips, wasting away with endless longing,
Over and over again.
She still holds her breath in the silence sometimes,
Waiting for the sight of him,
Glowing more brightly if the clouds let her see him,
For she is certain her reflection is a Prince,
Or a King who would be gallant enough to climb the highest mountain
To reach the untold acres of space she calls her home,
And he would cross the miles and miles of driftwood night between them,
Just to hold her close


Once,
The moon saw her reflection
In the river by the wood
And the river remembers
Because he saw her too,
Drinking in her beauty
With his dark and fathomless eyes, 
He may be earthbound and as solid as a velvet whisper
But he writes her sonnets with the movements of his being
And holds her image safe
In the caverns of his mind,
As gently as a child might hold a dream

Light

Light

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