HIS LADY OF THE ELECTRIC LAKE

He roams the edges of the electric lake, gathering the prettiest words, the ones that might exalt him in her eyes; shapes them into poetic flowers and boxes of chocolates of old; sends them across the charged water to the one who has caught his heart.

But the lady cannot see his gifts from behind her everlasting curtain of tears. She cannot hear the poetry in his voice, for the song of a different siren still echoes in her body, nor can she feel his heart beating desperately for her in the air thundering with electric pulses.

So he roams the shore, keeps to the edges, gathering the prettiest words, shaping them into pebbles that might never ripple in the water of her lake.

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©2026 CE  

Pic: Canva