Now, the Sirens have a still more fatal weapon

than their song, namely their silence.

            Franz Kafka,  "Parables"

More than reflection, this then and now,

On the still pond the arched shadows

Of willow, each strand a shimmering

And rippling on the water, the boughs

Twined and making a bridge I cross

To all those years ago and to her who

All these years I never knew but then,

Bending over the water as I passed by

Unseen, seeing her now still running

Her fingers through her loosened hair.

Leaves falling, my years drifting away.