Resistance Is Futile? Poem by David Taylor

Her words lapped his consciousness
as ripples meeting the shore
of a bright glistening lake
of red and gold reflections.
The shore with granite rocks
strewn across soft sand and mud
much stronger than the water
as in no mans land betwixt the two
the reeds swayed and mixed
the firmness of the land
with fluid ebbing of the waters.
And with passions born of wind
the soft waters slowly shaped
the edges that hoped contain
those dream like states
flashed in moonlit rhapsodies
of night's dark embrace