Betrayal.

On a remote shore,
a woman weeps.
She weeps for you.

As on your way,
your footpath reaches the bridge
that runs over the water of her tears.
Tears shed not in joy.

You stop to look deep
into the roaring surge
of frothing residue,
to see her hair entwined
around your mind,
twist its ivy allure.

Her eyes you have seen,
her smile you have held.
She weeps at her loss.

Her dreams float in clouds
you cannot grasp.
Her words you hollowed out
on the bark of her heart

She weeps her love
through willowed branches
on some distant riverside.
Where whispering winds
wait for the moment
that you draw near,
the dagger in your mind,
her love to kill

The betrayal of use,
the flesh of your body to quell
No secret you leave behind,
just a bitter collection of pebbles,
tossed and drunk in salty tears
where the river meets the sea.

You will not forget
as her eyes will follow,
will haunt, in each new moon face
You cannot escape the memory
you cannot let go,
for on a distant shore
she weeps for you no more.

? Lesley Roberts 196 words Thursday, 27 May 2004