She walks the void of midnight;
Her skirts of innocence wrap around her ankles--
Could this lake be any more still?
The surface reflects a startling image--
A woman stands off to the side;
Her skirts billow in the gust of wind;
Her eyes represent what the sky cannot speak;
Courage and hope echo off her body--
Deep beneath the glass surface of the lake;
A boy-not-yet-man awaits with his head in his hands--
(I want to continue this poem, but I do not know which direction to take it, any suggestions?)
