by Madeleine Ringer
She led me to Lake Mercy
and it smelt of secrets and vanilla.
Lake Mercy
I have been to Pluto
I have wiped away her dust.
I have taken out man’s knife,
dull with age and raged with rust.
She is not angry at us
and no longer sad either.
She led me to Lake Mercy
and it smelt of secrets and vanilla.
It is a place I often go now
to cleanse my vices of spring.
I like to taste its nectar
and hear morality sing.
Weeds and Wondering
i wonder if the green sees the frost coming,
i wonder if the roots know they are
to be strained.
do the peeking buds welcome winter?
do they dread decay?
it is a thought i often forget
caught like a fly in an aching web,
upright and grounded,
exposed like a weed on the
lookout for light.
September Morning
this morning Nature released her breath;
she had been holding it all summer long,
not wanting to disturb the branches
and their shining slumber,
nor the waves and their gentle dance.
finally, She exhales,
and the hills rub their noses
against the settling mist
and the trees sway towards her affectionate pull,
for they have been waiting too
© Madeleine Ringer
UK-based 21-year-old writer, Madeleine Ringer (she/her), shares her love of the Romantic period and poets like Sappho, through her writings of nature, love and all things melodramatic. When she isn’t scrawling away in her journal or feverishly typing in her notes app, she can be found sketching, reading or adoring her cat.
Find out more on her website or Instagram @madeleineringer.
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