THE POOL
THERE is a poolSilent, dark and still,It holds the patterns of the treesThe polished lacquered traceriesUntil a whimpering breezeBreaks the design at will.And through those waters dartEyeless fish and blind,Some silver coloured as a starOr crimson as a bloody scar,Sinister their beauties areLike mad thoughts in the mind.Stranger than scaly thingOr imaged leaf,I see myself a shadow there,The fish are gliding through my hairMy dull eyes have a fixed stareDrowned in the pool of grief.
THERE is a poolSilent, dark and still,It holds the patterns of the treesThe polished lacquered traceriesUntil a whimpering breezeBreaks the design at will.And through those waters dartEyeless fish and blind,Some silver coloured as a starOr crimson as a bloody scar,Sinister their beauties areLike mad thoughts in the mind.Stranger than scaly thingOr imaged leaf,I see myself a shadow there,The fish are gliding through my hairMy dull eyes have a fixed stareDrowned in the pool of grief.
THERE is a poolSilent, dark and still,It holds the patterns of the treesThe polished lacquered traceriesUntil a whimpering breezeBreaks the design at will.
And through those waters dartEyeless fish and blind,Some silver coloured as a starOr crimson as a bloody scar,Sinister their beauties areLike mad thoughts in the mind.
Stranger than scaly thingOr imaged leaf,I see myself a shadow there,The fish are gliding through my hairMy dull eyes have a fixed stareDrowned in the pool of grief.