Perfect Souls

by Ruhig

The rivulets run
Suspiring melodies along mossy banks
Ebbing, swirling ’bout eroded surfaces
Marring the passage of a moment
As the sprinkling spray echoes
The world as she whispers,
“What a shame befalls this day
The sundering of two souls
Setting off, always together
Yet utterly alone
Always reaching, yearning
For the world kindled
In pale blues
And emerald greens.


Overgrown, craving
The accompanying peace
Of their presence
Where I made them the ideal match
For a moment eternal
The blue sky
And green grass.”