"The elf in the lake" by Tara Shabanham Shaw

The elf in the lake

Waters like painted ice cannot hide him,

Not even the lilies that dance under the surface can.

His eyes are as bright as crisply cut emeralds,

His skin is laced in opal and mother of pearl.

His hair is spun from the finest gold;

Weaving in and out of the bubbles.

I reach for him and feel only the cold,

Wet waters that bite.

He smiles and reaches forward for me,

But like me catches only fresh water,

His golden hair falls forward and I see his ears

Now I know he cannot be.

The elf in the lake.

His ears point out sweetly, like tiny points,

He tugs on them self consciously and then…

There he goes making me fall for him…

Blushes like a little boy.

My heart beats faster and I go faint,

I thrash at the water hoping to free him,

He disappears and I despair

But a few minutes pass and he returns to me

Hours pass as we sit and stare through the water,

Just smiling and grinning and falling

Falling into the lake of love

Where my feet can stay dry.

The elf in the lake.

I rise.

My body aching, in more ways then I can explain,

I rise and turn; cannot bear to say goodbye

My eyes catch another’s, as delicious as any green can be,

My and me stare and smile

The elf in the lake.