The winds caress the waters, ruffling it's otherwise serene reflectivity.

My mind floats along it's ripples, thoughts ebb and rise in endless incongruity.
 

And then I see; an image broken upon the turbulent water.

I know it to be her, for I am confusions once willing fodder.
 

She haunts me, she torments me... yet wishes me well.

She walks my dreams: rippled and fell.
 

A favor for her, would gladly be done.

Yet my hands are tied until her fight with confusion is won...
 

I wish desperately to be with her, to cradle her, to live again within her eyes.

Alas, such actions would weaken her, killing us. Leaving me alone with myself to despise.
 

Sitting here before the lake, I can’t help but wonder...

Will the wind ever cease to plunder?
 

By Stephen L. Pollard