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Before a temple far beneath the trees,
At water's edge a woman paced in thought:
A fear she could not fathom nor appease,
Her troubled heart uneasy and distraught.

A man approached with footsteps soft and sure,
With passion he proposed his lone request.
She blushed and turned, unusually demure,
And spoke no words, unable to protest.


She knew she could not answer as he hoped
And feigned her ignorance in desperation.
At last he disappeared, and her heart broke,
The price she paid for too much hesitation.

He'd loved her plainly, and she loved him too.
Yet what remains now, but a bitter fool?

Penned by my hand on the 13th of Chronos, in the year 397 AF.