Ophelia

Her eyes were as big as the moon,

so when she gathered flowers,

hugged closely in the bosom of a tree,

her tears created a crystal lake,

which reflected the moonlight like a spoon,

bending and refracting the beams

like freshly-plucked harp strings.

 

She noticed the sparkling waves,

so she leaned towards the water,

but saw only her blurred reflection

at the very bottom of the lake.

Bent so close to the water,

her tears pierced through the surface,

and nestled on the brow of her reflection.

 

But she felt the winter in her veins,

even as the lake mirrored the summer moon.

Flowers fell from her hands as she reached

out her fingers to touch the surface,

to press against the fingers of her reflection.

And it did the same, so she bent even further,

so that she could wipe tear

from the reflection’s brow.

 

As she fell from the branches above,

petals and ivy followed in her wake.

She flung herself beneath the reeds,

and the lake swallowed her whole.