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.