Ophelia Poem by Gert Strydom

I saw Ophelia standing in the wood
next to a lovely pond
covered by water flowers
and some white lilies bloomed
on the bank while she looked
innocent and holy.

There were small white flowers
in her fair hair
which hang past her bosom
and she smiled radiant as the sun
while picking purple and white flowers.

She waded into the pond
like a nymph
blessing every thing
as far as she went
and her perfume hangs heavy
on the soft breeze
and willingly I could have been
a disciple baptised by her,
someone that would follow her anywhere
but I didn't want to disturb her there.