Water nymph

Leaf-clad and fragranced
green perfumes
made of times forgotten
visible once every other century
of waiting and despair
in the blistered memory
of narratives looking for language
and voice,
lost in the wilderness
where hope vine twists remembrance,
you would know
of those who stray from known path
and routine
and chance upon a rivulet
just as you surface and floats
into mists
that will seldom open
and then only for the un-earthed.

PLEASE LEAVE A COMMENT