Reflection of an Autumn Willow on the Shore

I think this is finally done. Gee, only took me a month. Please, tear it apart if you can (not literally, you sophist prose Nazis!):


She's aged, and waves in dying splendor,
Reaching fingers to the waters
And retreating them, an anxious gesture;
Moved by life unwitnessed
Save the brushing of my cheek.

A shame to see your wasted days
Of silent self-reflection
Paled by self-depravity,
While reaching hands of the righteous Sun -
Unconditional - hold you high.

What mirrors life's finality
But ashen waters, turbulent?
Moved by life unwitnessed,
Teemed with life
At depths we find unfathomed.

A gentle shade from pining limbs is
Lost. The casting clouds revolt,
And waters lose their colors -
Superficial as they are -
To reveal a battled monument.

What mirrors life's finality
But masking waters, ignorance?
A veil that drapes reflections
Of your aging limbs -
Your inconvenient fate.


-Tod Kreider