Her long, auburn hair flows to one side
And her skin glows in the sun.
Her mind – tranquil and solemn.

Young and innocent,
She hovers like a rain cloud,
Staring motionless at her reflection below.

A frog jumps from the crevice of a rock
Into the water
Rippling the image.

Her eyes begin to redden,
Tears begin to fall,
As do the branches of the weeping willow near her.

The wind blows, and the memories swirl around her like a tornado,
Out of control
Untamed.

Like storm watchers, others cloud around her,
Each patting their hand on her shoulder
With sympathy.

They bow their heads to look at their own reflections,
And like a tidal wave,
Their memories are splashed around
And trickle out in tears.