The Lake

Branches lean into each other,

forming an archway

for us two, to amble through,

holding hands as we do

beside the still lake.

Yellow leaves spin as the wind

offers them a moment

of weightless hope,

whistling by as we do

before the soft fall.

We peer into each other’s eyes,

into the deepest mystery of all,

searching for perfection,

and that what we find

is our own reflection.

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