Writing Resources from Fifteen Minutes of Fiction

Looking

I love to watch the ripples finally pass,
And water's clearest plane begin to shine.
I wish I could look past it, but alas,
The only visage staring back is mine.

To peer into the depths without reserve,
Through fathoms of complete lucidity,
Would certainly require endless nerve,
But yield such infinite tranquility.

Though all before me is a murky marsh,
I would look past obstructions if I may -
If only spotlights weren't so strangely harsh,
And these reflected eyes don't block the way.

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