Love’s Pond Poem by Alan Strand

At times like this when I feel all alone
Like a petal drifting over a deep dark pond
I wonder if Nature’s blooms have ever known
That life-giving water can be beyond
Its flowery reach.

How can the friendly sun, so bright and so pure
Turn harshly on this delicate array,
Making it shrivel up and endure
A slow death and decay.
What can this teach?

Does the budding plant start beckoning
For a warm summer’s rain?
Or do you think that it awaits a rude reckoning
Of a swift decline, devoid of pain
And all feeling?

Does the plant struggle to rise up tall
In a world it cannot understand?
It cannot see that it is so small
Compared to the vastness of the land.
Is there a chance for healing?

What do wilting leaves feel
When they droop in intense heat?
A sense of dying, a lack of zeal
Or even a hint of defeat
That the wetness did not come?

How can frail petals fall
So soon from their kin
Broken bits of softness all
Hopelessly drifting in the wind,
Scattered and numb.

Landing on the pond’s perfect face
A gentle wave ring ensues
Harkening a tiny fall from grace,
A bloom angel imbues
The water with silent guilt.

Where was I when I you needed me the most?
Just a dropp or two to give you hope.
Is it too late, am I a romantic ghost?
I want to be your water lily, drink you up, elope
And live life to the hilt!

For Life is but a fleeting passage I see
No time for consuming anger about what has past.
It’s all water under a bridge with me
Only my love for you is what will last.
I am a petal set free-
On Love’s pond!

(For Carla,1998/11/06.)