Beyond the dense woods of
scented sandal trees,
where pairs of wood ducks
ecstatically mate, squeaking,

and at  the end of  *******
leisurely preen and groom,
near the pond, so tranquil,
its water, the clear  hue of ultramarine,
lies a stone seat
                         where my true love,
used to sit, eyeing the path
thinking about my arrival.

Now, the pale sun reluctantly sets,
like a hopeless lover with
broken heart, returns.
The ducks had flown back,
long before. Alone, I sit here
not knowing why!