As the mist lifted, so his soul began to sink,
youth drowning in it’s wake, a haunting feeling
came over him, what if I were found, beneath
this glassy surface stretching before me,
would anybody care?
He felt the terror before him, frightened by it,
but with dreamy thoughts to simply fall asleep
into its arms outstretched like tentacles quick
to wrap around him and give him the final
comfort he was seeking.
Death could be felt in that poisonous
moment of doubt and no solace could
it bring him, hence his sad unholy soul
just wants to let itself go, without any
melody or note left to tell of why he
chose to end his tormented life over
top this lake tonight.
But as the time drew nearer and
the tempest called to him, thoughts
did enter his mind of worry, who would
care that this scared young lad scarcely
known by few, accept maybe by one fair lass,
who caught his glimpse from across their lane,
he didn’t even know her by name.
Let this be a dream, cast it far away,
awaken him from this place, this very
lonely mist covered lake, where lovers
laments are heard and stirred beneath
it’s haunting echoes of long, long ago.
Maybe there below the lake this night
a full moon will set the Raven to flight
to pluck him from his watery grave so
far below before his empty chest gurgles
his last breath in this welcoming lake tonight.
Is this a fitting grave, a simple splash into
the night to end the sorrows felt in this broken
lad filled with terror and strife, he does not
love the loneliness, he simply wanted
someone to care, to read between the
lines and find his meanings there, a
simple kind word, but nothing was ever heard.
In early morn his boots were found alone,
and just a ripple and one final bubble was
seen from the dock where he stood in
deep thought alone. A lonely figure sat
on the dock, head bowed between her legs,
gripping tight his boots while weeping for a
boy she barely knew, but for a glance now
and then from across the lane.
She never even asked his name.
© Copyright Vincent Moore. All Rights Reserved