The Weir

The Weir

by Elizabeth Challinor

Don't be deceived

By the beauty of the weir

With its frothy white waters

Your gaze

Imagines constance

Where there is none

What you see

Is a beautiful lie

An illusion of permanence

While waters

Keep moving on

But don't be convinced

by the grumbling

That all is lost and gone

Of a cynical mind

For your gaze still captures

The pure white essence

Of all that was

Loved and left behind

Elizabeth Challinor