Ophelia



Flower-clad, she slipped

Her longing-filled limbs

Into the stream.

Some say

She was still singing as

Sweet lips submerged,

Her fine face framed

By long silk strands like

Cupid’s-grin ripples

That drifted

Slowly downward,

Surrounded by

The poison petals

Of lost love.

With her last breath

She exhaled his name.

There. Look.

Such a picturesque tribute

To the sunken depths

Of a broken heart

And of hope, drowned.