Stirrings

Looking into the pond,

She found herself watching over

Reflections and life that lived in the depths beyond.

She did try to find a face well known,

But all that came over

Was a feeling that had well grown.

A feeling so subtle

And yet so strong,

It blurred the conscience far too long.

It stirred memories of different lives

Of enchanted meadows and Oliver’s wives.

She looked harder and the pond ceased to exist,

All that remained was smoke and mist.

Little did she know, she was viewing another time,

A time etched in the spaces of memory divine,

A time etched in the spaces of memory divine.

(C) DIKSHA SHAHI