Ophelia

 

Ophelia was only twenty-two.

They say she drowned in a small brook.

A branch broke and dropped her.

Unlikely – both the branch and the shallow brook.

She was sad. Perhaps, mad.

The brook, to the river, to the sea.

Not death but part of something larger.

Fresh water. Salt.

Advertisements

Leave a comment

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s