The Water Spirit

She sits unmoving, her cheeks aglow,
The final ambers of sun caught in her eyes
Just as the lake shimmers before her,
Her soul longs for another moonrise.

She stares and stares at the mute water,
As if on its face, something is amiss,
Little does she realize within her,
That she’s the one drowning in abyss.

She returns often, sits dark by the water,
Entranced by some shimmer on the surface.
Or by the lack of it within her own,
Burned long ago, by her heart’s furnace.

The moon rises somber beyond the hills,
Beyond the horizon where she lost him.
And as the moon’s eerie glow intensifies,
The eternal hope within her dwindles dim.

-Amittras

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