Wandering,

feet become one with the ground.

I twirl and skip

until I’m turned around.

Wooden bridge calls my name.

Pull out my crayons,

write a few stanzas.

I build the frame.

Listen for windsong,

rustling the leaves,

until I am chasing,

caressing the breeze.

Irises, willows, lilies astound.

Tears drip.

Feel myself slip.

No longer here.

I am beyond, melting into Water Lily Pond.