Ophelia stood at the water's edge,
asking for a sign.

I treaded upon the muddied bank
and I beckonedbeckoned the sky
to give my love back his soul
my soul back its pulse
and our passion a chance to fly.

My love, I cried last night,
in my tears I drowned.
My love, I died last night,
with flowers in my gown.

I'm cloaked in flaming gauze
choked by promises betrayed.
Tomorrow will carry passion;
you will have a tomorrow.
But, my dear, I perished yesterday.

My love, I cried last night,
in my tears I drowned.
My love, I died last night,
with flowers in my gown.

You cried treason
in your father's name.
I thought we could be better,
our passion stronger than fear,
but passion murdered us just the same.

My love, I cried last night
in my tears I drowned
my love, I died last night
with flowers in my gown.

Ophelia floated over the riverbed;
she never stood a chance.

12/01/2001

Author's Note: A few years back there was a spate of books that used Ophelia as a metaphor for the struggles of female adolescence. I read a couple of them and this was what came out in response.

Posted on 07/04/2007
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