Of Course, the Water Is Still – Sunday Whirl 411

Of course, the water is still.
By the shores of that lovely lake,
I find only ruins of my own oath
melted down to a puddle –
no shimmer, no chime in it.

Short of breath, it’s just a sorry sign
beaten down,
groaning with the low ripple of the lake.

© MK, 2019

Written for Brenda’s Sunday Whirl where many great fellows contribute words of poetry.

Author: soul mary

Writer, poet and reader

3 thoughts on “Of Course, the Water Is Still – Sunday Whirl 411”

    1. Pearl, so nice to see you visit! Glad you liked it. I write so seldom these past 6 years, that I hardly believe I can do it again. Just every now and then, I find the words. Not very fine results, usually, but practice makes perfect and I’m dreadfully out of practice.
      Thanks for stopping by! Love, M.

  2. “I find only ruins of my own oath.”

    Love that line.

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