Lily of the Pond


Now that she has gone…

How was I to know…our affair

was to be so inviting of mirth and muck.

For the most part…

We all become down on our luck.

Seasoned by other droughts.

Encouraged to over eat…

on the sun’s guiding heat.

 

Green and over ripe.

Blessed are the ones who dance for the rain.

Those who imbibe in the slippery terrain.

It isn’t always in vain…

When I loiter over the powder puffs of fine sand.

Nor, is it inclement of me…

to dangle out on the edges of the frothy banks.

Pulling summertime pranks from lily pad water tanks.

 

So, I have been caught…

dirty handed.

Wishing the water away.

Longing for the drops to just scatter at my roots.

Dizzily looking at nature’s bathing suit.

 

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