The pebble on the shore the wave does kiss
Although he barely knows from whence she came,
Left to guess what lies at sea — pain or bliss?
Even so he is never more the same.
In a sylvan river meek and shallow
A drop of water searches for the sea:
Meanders and cascades it shall follow
To be lost, absorbed in immensity.
Where the rivers end and tired waters rest
A calm lake looks with longing to the sky,
And though he cannot reach where clouds do nest,
He reflects and mirrors her slow beauty.
Beneath a bough two sets of eyes do meet;
They kiss, although their lips never did greet.

August 09, 2006

This entry was posted in Sonnets.

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