Enigma (By Eleanor Freemer)

    Who am I?

    What am I?

    My flesh is real, Yet I am like someone invented by a malicious God, a creature constructed of fog         and     mists of swirling clouds that hide me

    From the passing crowds.

    My bones are woven grasses that

    wave along the zephers 

    which stir around my earthbound feet.

    But touch me gently with your hands

    and you will feel my pounding heart.

    Look at me with tender eyes and you will see

    Sorrow like sap running through the branches of my soul.

    And if you love me, we two will born

    like a hot spring that soothes away all pain,

    enfolding us with softness and perfume. 

    

    Than when you leave me, as you surely will,

    I will shrivel and fall apart

    like a Sered leaf to flow away in the rain.

    Cluttered gutters to disappear behind the mist

    of my tears leaving behind

    Just an empty tattered coat.