Form: Prose Poetry
In the silken silence of a sultry evening when thoughts drift in the flames of a fire pit to times long ago the tears of tonight remember the dance of the butterfly is over and the flower-filled meadows no longer play a love song for me. I gaze to where the poppies grow where the moon shines at her brightest and the starlight reflections in the pool carry the essence of you in golden tresses that look like your hair. I stare deep into the dark waters and wish you were here. I feel the coldness surrounding me, the chilled waters replacing the air that I breathe, then I see you, holding out your hand, calling my name – all I have to do is drown.