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In early autumn
The alert fox walked, quiet,
Through the shades of gold.

The Satyr followed,
Coming from the den they share,
Keeping with his pace.

Stopping at the stream,
They watched the rainbows forming.
Beautiful water.

Sat she by his side.
As the slow-paced morning moved,
Warming them both up.

As brilliant leaves fell
His gentle hand took hers. There...
A whispered promise.
©2008-2009 ~Ribbonwords
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Submitted: May 13, 2008
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Author's Comments

Happiness is in the eye of the beholder.

The beholder holds their own truth.

That Full Truth can only be seen through that pair of eyes. Every other pair may see the same truth, admittedly, but they will see it through slightly different lenses: concave, convex, thick, thin, tinted. Each slight change in perception makes the difference.

Which is one of the reasons poetry is fun.

You can say what you mean, share the energy that you've woven into words and still keep your Truth hidden. That interests me.
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