Amy PattersonBocchi


Narcissus

Water ripples the bank-
In the shadows of Echo's great mountain.
He lies prostrate over the edge,
Staring intensely into the pool.

From crimson dawn to violet dusk- he pines.
Vainly he reaches- to kiss, to caress;
But cursed he is for prideful disdain.
the image removes- panic bursts forth.

[Report Error]