Composite, original from Photo by demandaj on Foter.com / CC BY-NC-ND

Somber Orange

Her face was on the water, rippling,
a sad smile, forlorn, the brook was trickling,
a memory submerged, a soul shorn,
a Psyche buried in her river grave.

My eyes were glazed with Aeschylusian tears,
a somber orange reminder of the years,
between the now and then, the timbre
padding softly to the beat of locust’s wings.