Young Spring danced all that day.
A pack of crying cranes
reminded of the flute.
She went to the lake bank.
The flute had gone away.
It spoiled Young Brook good mood.
The girl then tried to find
the loss. The sky denied
to give the lost thing back.
The evening slowly died.
Young Brook sat down and cried.
The raindrops soaked the bank.
The weather mimicked mood
of sad exhausted Brook.
Drops danced on the wide smooth
black surface of the lake.
They shook the water space.
They fell and dark trees bloomed.
The evening whispered spells
to lull sad Brook. It cramped
her shoulders with the dove
cute clouds like a plaid.
Young Spring laid on the bank.
The night fell from above…
by Thea Ariss
17.10.2024
The loss. The Kingdom of Streams
© Copyright: Тея Арис, 2024
Свидетельство о публикации №124101707078
Свидетельство о публикации №124101707078
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