She Might Have Been The One
He wanted her to go down
with him to the lake,
dine in moonlight;
chicken, cheese, berries.
Cold tea with fresh mint
to wash it down.
What if she had gone that night?
Walked the path with him,
with basket in his left fist,
her elbow in his right.
A bowl of moon rests
on the dark blue belly of heaven.
Black water laps sandy shoulders.
The dock creaks, creaks, creaks.
Tall black water lilies…
do their blossoms close at night?
Or do they float silently spread open,
heads bobbing rhythmically until morning
when frog-hunting boys
disturb their peaceful rest?
~*~
Cheerwell, Mary :O)
=====
Good Cheer & Be Well,
Maryann Hazen Stearns
"Under The Limbo Stick" http://www.geocities.com/Faerhart/
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