Across the wide mouth of water
Sat my beloved ready for me.
My eyes focused on his out of focus face
And knew that it was over.
The water rippled a thin oil sheen,
Casting an ill rainbow to the bottom.
I wish, therefore, it must not be real.
My lines, he told me later, consist
Of murky reeds pulled from too far.
I am too far gone to reconcile with you,
You who sits across the lake, filled
With prayers that fall below.
(Memphis Botanic Gardens, copyright 2014 - photography by Kimberly B. Richardson)