The days grow long and the season warms. The beauty of the blossom trees steal my gaze like a handsome stranger, while love fills the air like their pink petals. To many, a season of new beginnings, yet I remain the same.
I walk the trails to the lake, and along the sand at the ocean’s edge. How far my mind stretches wondering where the water ends; how could I ever know? To this land I am bound, but my heart searches far and wide. An island, fit for a lonely princess.
The people I meet come and go, not a single one stays. Those I knew, those I call my friends, everchanging. To and fro they go freely, while I remain here. They live lives of wonder, yet call me princess… Why was I given a role that I do not want to play, when so many others would be happy to take my spot. When we were young we grew closer together, but with time it seems that all we do is grow further apart.
This night I sat by the lake accompanied by only the silent stillness, and the flickering reflections of the lantern lights. I sat admiring the stars pondering, wondering how many were doing the same.
It seems the lake is the only place I frequent now. Though, my mind always drifts to the same thoughts. How things have not been the same since mother left. Though father tries his hardest, much of her responsibility falls upon me now. The people miss you, father misses you, I miss you…
How did you ever manage a kingdom like this? It seems that the work never ends, and now that you are gone, who have I left to talk to?… This lake holds too many fond memories of the both of us. Now I come here just to get a glimpse of you in my mind… a reminder of how inadequate the memories are.
My wandering stopped as I saw a figure looking across the water, a man. Upon first glance his hair seemed a mess, but as I looked on I saw that it was an elegant flowing mess, that fell beautifully down to his neck.
There was something about him, a graceful mystery, like he didn’t truly belong beside this lake. His dark copper eyes expressed a tinge of sorrow, as he stood pining over the view. Though I did not see him fully, his face was both soft and striking at once, and I wondered who this man was. If he was someone I had met before, I would’ve remembered, but since I do not, to me he remains a stranger. I wondered if his sadness was similar to that of mine.
I’m sure he knew I was there, but he did not spare me much attention, uninterested that I was there at all. A stark contrast to how most people treat me, yet a part of me couldn’t help but wish that he would come up to me before I had to go…
I can’t stop thinking about that stranger at the lake, I have not seen him since, and I’m beginning to wonder if I had dreamt it all, but how could I have, when It is all written in these very pages. Who is he that he has taken root in the garden of my mind? I should pluck him from the soil, uproot him from the ground for he does not belong there, yet, I cannot. What has he done to be treated with such hostility…
Maybe he was like me, looking for a change of scenery. I wonder what kind of life he lives far away from here. So I have fallen into the trap so that my mind shall wander, a small sprout has grown into a flower. This passing memory has made itself a home, but I remain evermore the garden’s keeper. Interesting as he is, there are many other flowers that need my attention, let me spend no more time on him, for who knows if I will ever see him again.