As the sun settled behind the rolling green hills,
and the moon showed her radiance. One could feel the
winds embrace, alas the crickets soft lullaby. I sat
at the waters edge, and wept. Each tear filled wouth
its own sorrow, and beautiful glee. For what is felt
tis not really understood by me. A heart lacking in
folly s crime. A soul who's fruit is sweeter then
endless time. I took a rose from my side and placed
within tis breast alone tear. For each rose is beauty
by its the name, and sorrow for tis lack of time
shared. Aloud I called her name 3 times, as if struck
by Druids flare. Slowly i looked within the
nightened stream, and saw the reflection of this
women. the women i dream; the women my tears weep for.
from behind me I heard a whisper. I turned my head as
she wiped each tear from my cheek.
By, Jonathan Paul Germundson