Moss Slippery and Wet Beneath My Feet

Moss, slippery and wet beneath my feet,

Covering the rock and root tangled path I traverse.

Though drenched to the bone I am in ecstasy

For my love awaits by the lake shore.

The melodic sound of the wren announces my arrival,

Yet I am unable to discern whether she is happy or agitated.

No matter, through the mist I spy my lover’s shawl

Resting lazily on a fallen oak.

I call to her, but I am offered no reply.

How perplexing is this predicament.

The mirror like stillness of the lake reveals no trace,

No footsteps point her direction.

What supernal event has befallen her?

Horrible graphic images come to mind.

Did she drown,

Did she fall victim to some unknown villain,

Was she disheartened,

Choosing to stray off as some palliative remedy?

Alas, I am alone,

The fragrant scent of patchouli wafting from her shawl,

This–the only sign she had ever existed,

But for the perfect masterpiece of her kept

By the artist, that is my mind.

 

~~ Dominic R. DiFrancesco~~

Prompt: Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie – Wordle #8

Mindlovemisery's Menagerie - Wordle #8

Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie – Wordle #8

Miles Apart

Living miles apart,

Acting like casual friends

Instead of siblings.

Visits far too infrequent

And our calls are far too few.

We have grown distant.

Not because of difference,

We are not that kind,

But because our life journey,

Leads us down different roads.

~

~~ Dominic R. DiFrancesco ~~

Calls Go Unanswered – A Tanka

Image Credit: telegraph.co.uk

Image Credit: telegraph.co.uk

Calls go unanswered

Are you not at all concerned

Like ships lost at sea

When late to arrive at port

We send out a search party

~

~~ Dominic R. DiFrancesco ~~