top of page
  • Natasha Devalia

The lake

By Natasha Devalia

Branches lean into each other

forming an archway

for us to amble through,

holding hands as we do

beside the still lake.

Yellow leaves spin;

as the wind offers

a moment of weightless hope,

they whiz by

before the soft landing.

We peer into each other’s eyes,

to seek the deepest mystery of all,

searching for perfection,

that which we find

is our own reflection.

Recent Posts

See All

The life in hand

John Grey The dark is after your eyes, your once sharp mind. People no longer know how to represent themselves in your presence. You shake your head. Their faces aren’t good enough for recognition. I


bottom of page