Spirit Of The River (Lutra canadensis)

Lay Me Down

The waters were deep,
the pebbles cold
beneath her feet,
a chill that crept
into her bones,
her hands were filled with river stones.
.
The lights were chaste,
the sun warm
upon her frozen face,
a warmth that told
she was alone,
her feet were bare upon the stones.
.
The clothes were wet,
the boddice clear,
it’s white met
with the river’s tears,
the overflow, a strangled moan,
her eyes own rivers met the stones.
.
The thoughts were base,
the action pure
that dragged her to that place,
where pebbles grow
to build death’s throne,
her pockets full of offered stones.

Leave a Comment so far
Leave a comment