The Lake Poem by John Lars Zwerenz

One quiet eve
By a dark, gloomy lake
The wind did grieve
Pining to take
My soul into that dreadful, dark lake.
One quiet eve
The memories of day
Seemed to fade, to pass away
Into the reflection of that grievous, muddy pond.
That same quiet evening
Went far, far beyond
What I knew before of hope and glee.
For hope went leaving
And left me behind.
Crippled by the sight of that small, dour sea
My once enchanted, charming charmed mind
Became anxiously engaged by a wavering tree.
A ghastly mast, it wavered at me.
That possessed, flaming, drooping yew
Dipped its toe into the muddy dark-blue
Of the lake which waited, waited for a lifetime
For me to sit among its darnel, its malevolent dew.
My only transgression, my sole mortal crime
Was in loving you and only you.
Yet this pool
Was jealous
And regarding me a fool
Became enraged in that reticent, silent night,
Envious
Of any light-
Envious of our amorous play.

Then the wind swept along the lawn
Like a mad-eyed child
Across the briers and the hay,
And the many reeds grew wild
As the night grew deeper and cast away
All remnants of the dawn,
The stars and the moon, every orb that shone.

Then the icy surface of that terrible pond,
A presage of hell in the blazing beyond,
Spoke to my soul and to my soul alone,
Whispering in a whispered tone,
As I inhaled a gasping, terrified breath:
“You shall drown and I am death! ”