The fourth (imaginitively titled) in a series of poems that has been on the go for about eight or nine years…see here for the latest instalment.
The Fourth Reflection
Another four years have swiftly passed and here I am again. Crouching here beside the lake among the multitude of men. Previously I could not see my image within the shine, but now I peek and take a look, that face is clearly mine. The waters gavotte and dance around just like they did before. Yet eight years prior to this point the water seemed so pure. Now it seems, the tide it has a melancholic hue; the tinge reveals a different face, a wiser, older view. Is it this that is maturity? Is it this I call my home? Is it this that is acceptance of feeling all alone? With these particular questions, I feel it’s shown me most. Standing up, I walk away, far along the coast.
P – 19.01.12