Friday, April 29, 2011

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.

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