Guest by the Crimson Waters

Who may it be behind the waves?

She turns around as if she knows.

Looks straight at me and shakes her head.

I curse in silence.

Should have stayed by the fallen tree.

But suddenly she spins again,

and reveals her true figure opon the crimson waters.

Her dark clothing sucks all light away,

but her reflection lacks her looming posture.

Nothing more than a mimicing shadow.

Turnes clearer but then distorts.

As black ripples slowly march to their defeat,

radiating from her confident moves.

Suddenly she dissappears,

when the waters swallow her.

I wonder where.

Longing for her calming presence.

Scanning the mirroring dark I try to find,

what made me feel that inner satisfaction.

But she is gone and I fear.

A cold wind instead begins,

gently licking my face.

The burning clouds slowly turn to gray.

I begin to think that the time has come,

to return to routine of life,

as from behind I hear her call.

The hounting sound of a howling soul.

The call of lonelyness.

The call of a loon.

Author's Note

This one is a bit longer. I'm experimenting with different styles.