Way back in the bayou
‘neath the spanish moss
they say at sunset
you can see him walk
He trudges through mud
12 inches deep
searching for something
restless and weak
She was barely a woman
some say only 16
when she was laid under water
by jealousy and greed
Her heart was the purest
more precious than gold
but now lies at the bottom
of the swamp, dark and cold
like a nocturnal flower
that knows only the night
and can tell no stories
of greenery and light
where the water is black
like the darkest pitch
and love can not reach her
nor sunlight’s kiss
only the floating lily
and the bullfrog know
where she sleeps eternal
no grave marker to show
Eric Syrdal is an independent poet/author. He’s an avid gamer and Sci-Fi enthusiast. He enjoys reading science fiction and fantasy literature and spends a great deal of his writing time focused in those genres. He is from New Orleans, Louisiana, where he lives with wife and two children. You can read more Eric’s writing at My Sword and Shield….
Brave & Reckless 
Thank you for the honor, Christine! ❤
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It is always a pleasure to share your work
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A dark, succint tale. Brilliantly executed. Well done!
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Thank you so much, AG.
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Eric, you are such a stellar story teller! ❤
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Thank you, Ma’am. ❤
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You’re welcome, my friend! 💜
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Wonderfully descriptive!
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Thank you!
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My pleasure I thoroughly enjoyed it!
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Quite the tale Eric!
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thank you, Aurora! 🙂 Sorry for the late reply!
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