The Lake [early March 1981]

[On one of the discussion threads it was asked how we started writing poetry. I explained therein that about a month before my 11th birthday I had the same 'dream' three nights in a row. It was a terribly emotional dream, and probably more adult in emotion and event than most 10-year olds are want to have. But... it happened. And in the midst of the feelings of loss and heart-death prompted by the dream, I wrote this poem. It's not that good, but just because of that discussion thread, and it being my very first poem, I figured I'd post it. Just have never felt right about changing the poem, though around 17 or so I did write another poem about the dream.]

Beside that lake we blossomed with Spring
With the white lilies did our love flower
Beautiful and pure, in sunny happiness basking.
Our passion was eternally devoted
Secure behind walls of hope moated.

Was it fate, that deceivingly beautiful day
That the lake which spawned our love
Would also tear us apart and away
From the heavenly gift we had
All because we recognized not danger, pleasurably clad?

That those loving waters could so coldly swallow!
That such fate was dispensible
Was thru our love incomprehensible.

With your passing halved is my soul.
Love, my sustenance, is gone from me now
Leaving my spirit weak, starvation to toll.
Now I too die, life’s pain to spare.
Let us hope our next lake is much more fair.