Tonight.
I am the lake,
On the first Nacht of June.
My waters unruffled, as
The moon casts its cautionary glances our way,
Like a blurry constellation
Down.
Down.
Down.
Upon my state of introduction.
Warm….
Inviting you in for a dip.
Softly my waters wrap around your trunk.
As the high tide rivets your bulk.
Like an Olympian,
You swim.
Becoming familiar as your toes curl upward firmly,
Your feet slapping the tip of my waters with each goad.
Panting.
Huffing.
Carrying.
A simple breast stroke abruptly turns into an awkward catch up.
As the moon casts its disgusted glances upon my waters reflection,
Let down by your,
Sad.
Sad.
Performance.
Today, I am the lake.
On the second Morgen of June
Poet's Corner 