By The Lake Poem by Emma Atkinson

The lake is a stone,
Smooth grey-green flecked with light.
I sit alone.
Watching
As the wind dances gently across its face.
It smells of leaves, earth, and a trace
A trace of lavender
The sprig I cut because it reminds me of you,
Sweetest lilac, the purest hue,
And it means the world to me.

The rocks beneath me are solid and steadfast,
Conglomerate and worn,
Like the face of an ancient, long passed.
My mind is more like the water,
Ever-changing, a song.
I hear the twitter of a bird gliding along
To see its face reflected in the water.

I wonder what it is to fly,
To have wings,
In my dreams I have experienced such things.
But not now.
Now I am a daughter of earth.
The ground is my kingdom,
The place of my birth.
I love it dearly, but look to the sky,
An endless canvas of pearl-grey,
Fracturing the water with each pale ray,
And think.

I sit alone, with only thoughts
More fractured than the waves,
Wishing only I could engrave
The peace I find here,
So that I can return to it someday,
When all is dark, and all is fear,
And remember the scent of lavender in my hand.
When I am truly alone, and alone I stand.
But here, now by the lake,
It is as if you were with me,
In each breath I take.
Here, now, I am not alone