THE LAKE

BY NATASHA DEVALIA

Branches lean into each other, forming an archway for us two, to amble through, holding hands as we do beside the still lake.

Yellow leaves spin as the wind offers them a moment of weightless hope, whistling by as we do before the soft fall.

We peer into each other’s eyes, into the deepest mystery of all, searching for perfection, and that what we find is our own reflection.